The Spider-Man
by FreshTendrills
Summary: Spider-Man is saved by an unexpected individual, which leads him to get involved in a larger mystery. Experience a retelling of Spider-Man's story, friends, and villains. Ch 1-9 were edited from their original posts. Grammar, pacing, character edits overall, I do hope you all enjoy them.
1. Chapter 1: The City Sleeps

The Spider-Man

Ch 1: The City Sleeps

A stranger in a common land only paints the scene, but he does not create it.

The firewood spoke to Peter as the cold weather of New York City engulfed him. Tired and beaten, he rests next to a homeless woman who dragged him to safety. The woman had bags to spare from her eyes to the junk she carries, but Peter did not judge. He appreciated the help. After all, he understood it was his actions that led him here underneath a bridge in God knows where.

The surrounding area looked dead as if a carcass was forgotten and kicked by the side of the road. The cars and apartments seemed empty. Lifeless. A tint of blue hue splattered across the streets made it seem like the moonlight had a magnifying glass. A strange looking place he thought, but strange was beginning to be nothing new to him. Although, tonight was different, perhaps because this was his first time being beaten down. Something was off earlier.

The woman stares at the fire as if it were its friend. She knows the feeling all too well. Peter stares at the fire and breathes in the warmth. _My bones are near breaking point. I think my head was damn near blown off, but thanks to this lady I'm alive. I have no idea how she dragged me here. Where the hell are we? _Peter then tries to get up, but his body is betraying him.

"'Ey kid, you were banged up bac' ther'. I don' think it' be good for ya getting up in the cold." She said with a raspy voice. The cold had gotten her good, and the pack of American Legends lying on the sidewalk didn't help.

Peter tries to lift himself, but his body is too heavy. The woman gets up to check his head and warmth. She looked tired and in need of a shower. Layer upon layer to keep warm, yet she still looked frail. Peter wondered why the help when she seemed to need it more than himself.

She sits opposite him with a curious look. She reaches to warm her hands when he speaks.

"How long have I been out?" He asks with his boyish voice. His face matches his voice but bruised and red. Cold so cold.

"A couple of hours, maybe more," she continues to warm herself up. "It's a strange world we live in, I mean, a kid like yo'self beaten and left out on the street like that." She stares at him with a face of longing. "No one helped you so I figured I should…" Silence. The wind brushes them. The sparks of the burning wood are the only noise piercing the moment. The city that never sleeps is indeed sleeping in this part of town.

"I was busted up pretty good back there." Peter tries to put his head up, but he is too weak. He lays back down, thankful for the help.

"What happen? I mean how'd you get busted up?" The woman asks worriedly. She is concerned about his health, but with no phones nearby, and no means for a homeless person to contact an ambulance. In New York, the strangers stay stranger and thus on the fringes.

"I got in a big, big fight," Peter smiles as if to know an inside joke, "but I was way over my head."

The woman checks Peter again. "You seem to be getting betta" Her voice, on the other hand, seems to be getting hoarser. "I can walk a ways to get ya some help, but you're going to have to wait here." She asks him awaiting his response.

Peter stares at the burning wood. The sparks speak to him. _With great power_. "no, no. I can rest up more. I can, it's fine. Plus, you seem to need some rest yourself."

She smiles and sits.

Peter is in awe of the silence around them. A melancholy silence. He remembers his failings, regrets, and he sees this woman who has sacrificed her night to save him. He can't help but wonder why?

"why did you help me?"

She looks at the moonlight and grabs a cigarette from her coat pocket. As she lights it up, she speaks, "well I don' know, I figure I should. I mean a kid on the street should be enough," she draws her cigarette looking at Peter. "you know you're the only person to have spoken to me this long." she smiles as she puffs smoke. She looks at the moon wondering something.

Peter can tell she is tired and alone. He wants to help, but he is too weak.

"I'm glad I can provide some form of amusement. Would it sound weird if I told you that you're the first girl I had a full conversation?" Peter slowly begins to laugh. She joins him as they both share a rare light moment.

"'Ey kid, can I ask you some'ing?" She asks with a caring smile. Her face seemed like a mother asking her child for a hug.

"Uh, sure," Peter said. She had helped him and kept him warm. Such sincerity was foreign to him catching him by surprise each turn.

The woman sat next to him and began to fix the rags she placed on him. Her warm smile continues to enlighten Peter.

"I had a son once," She said. Her smile seemed as melancholy as the night. "He was about ye high, and he seemed your age. What is you? 15?" she asks with a slight smirk.

Peter knows those eyes of grief anywhere. He knew he had to hear her out and so he did. "Yeah, I'm 15." He answered. He then reached for her hand to comfort.

"I miss my boy," she said. Her eyes began to water up. "And seeing a kid like yo'self beaten like this." Her hand's grip begins to tighten.

Peter couldn't help but notice her frail nature and trembling hands.

"On the street of all places, Jesus. If there is a Jesus, I knew I had to help you." She continued, tired and weak.

"You need to rest. Please, you've taken care of me far more than anyone has, apart from my uncle and aunt, you're the nicest person I've ever met," Peter gives a brief laugh "I mean it." He wants to cheer her up. After all, she saved his life.

She looked at him with a glimmer of hope. That hope, to a grieving mother, was all she needed.

"Can…I mean…" she musters her courage, "can I sleep next to you?" she asks. Her voice cracks and she lowered her head in embarrassment.

Peter is still weak but gaining his strength little by little. He sees a broken woman in front of him. He ponders what all of this means to her. "yes, I'm almost able to get up, but go on ahead."

She lays next to Peter. She hugs him and slowly her eyes water up. Both hold on to each other, as if, to hold on to the last glimmer of warmth. He asks for her name.

"Rebecca," she responds, barely able to hold back the tears.

She continues to hold on to him, but the tears are no longer able to be hidden by her downhearted eyes. The streets near the unknown bridge of New York heard weeping, echoes of a lost soul.

Not long after Peter gets up and Rebecca is asleep. He covers her with the blankets she lent him. Before he left, he put a note next to her with directions to his Aunts homeless shelter.

The letter said:

"Friends, food, and a nice warm bath await you there. Please, I hope you go. You're no stranger to me, I see you, and I thank you. Your friend—Peter Parker."


	2. Chapter 2: Amateur Hour

Ch 2: Amateur Hour

The night is still young, or so he thinks.

New York City at night is the apex of all metropolises, alive, a living breathing city that overwhelms. It overwhelms you with the people moving, laughing, eating, dreaming, and screaming—soundscapes that paint a picture. The skyscrapers as high as could be, but in the night, they seem to disappear with the indigo-colored sky.

And so, the night continued to be a hazy walk towards realizing that he had spent over 4 hours unconscious, being cared for by a homeless woman named Rebecca. He wondered how she managed to move him a great length. As he reaches his destination, a secret stash—a backpack filled with gadgets—he prepares for the day. He treasured what he called his "web-shooters," admiring them like a cowboy does his pistols. As he stands on the edge of an abandoned building, he wonders to himself:

_Ok, _

_I was entering a subway when I noticed the fury dog eating a hotdog, wait that's ways back, I left Aunt May at the clinic. Yes, that's better. I walked a couple of blocks when I noticed a pale man run towards some trash cans. He looked frightened, and he was indeed, very pale. His skin seemed to be hurting him at the time. He carried a syringe. I don't know if my mind is playing tricks on me, but I do believe he had some blood and fluids on his mouth and clothing. His eyes told me a story, he was scared, around that moment is when the pulse hit me, or pulse punch or whatever that is. I still need to figure out what that guy uses to make beams from his hands._

The city lights give it a sense of dreams and so to Peter the city speaks in riddles, never truly saying that he is wanted, but all the same trying to make him a friend.

As Peter equips himself, he briefly notices that a couple of men are running away from somebody, and so the night continues. 3 A.M. and Peter pushes on. He puts on his wrestling mask with a pair of goggles, all in black. The material certainly does not seem to be made for any action, but Peter is not an ordinary kid.

"Let's see what's happening here."

The men run with a wild sense of urgency, and Peter follows them swinging from lamppost to lamppost. He tails them for a good ten minutes until he notices that no one is following them. The two men eventually lead Peter to an alleyway. The alleyway surrounds them with trash and cigarette buds giving a pulsing odor. One of the men is a tall blonde, pushing thirty and the other is a rounder brunette. Peter makes him out to be around the same age, maybe older. Peter crawls from the side of the alleyway, slowly coming forth. He drops down behind them as the men creep together holding something. "Hey," Peter said. The men startled by what they are seeing. "Ah!"

"What the hell man!" The blonde man yells,

"I've seen some crazy shit, but dressed in black and a mask? You gonna rob us or something?" asked the Brunette

"No, of course not, okay I do get the 'I'm dressed in black, I'm badass!' but I'm not a bad guy."

The men stare at each other for a couple of seconds, followed by a burst of laughter.

"Hey, come on man, I saw you guys running for what seemed forever, and I figure I either help you or stop you, so, which is it?"

The men continued to laugh until an old lady yelled from afar, "keep it down! Yah bozos!"

"Okay guy," the Blonde Man said as he composes himself.

"You're a superhero? Or somein'?" The Brunette is genuinely curious.

"Look we were running because this guy tried to do some weird crap on Jonsey and me," the Blonde Man pats Jonsey on the back. Both men seem serious.

"At first we thought he was just a local homeless cat, but then he tried to bite us like an animal." The men look nervous as if the thing that attacked is still after them. "He just came at us. It wasn't till Jonsey bolted a trashcan at him that we managed to get this far."

"Where was this attack? Was it near here? Is that normal around these parts?" _Doesn't seem to fit 'Pulse Hands' I fought earlier. Note to self, I need to think of better nicknames for these guys._

"Well, it's around the south bank of Monticello, you know 'that' area. We're a good thirty minutes away, and that was a solid run we did. So, I think we're good."

_WHAT! Monticello! That's a ways off from home. Damn, I lost track of time. Still, their ok and I'm awake._

Peter feels a sense of relief, but he is tired and needs a bed. "Ok, so your good now then?"

"Yes, I mean you gave us a good laugh, but the creep is gone." Both men nod in agreement.

As Peter swings to the lamppost, the two men look shocked. "Oh, before I leave. What did the weird man look like?"

The men are still in shock.

"Guys come on, there are weirder guys on the news nowadays."

Jonsey manages to snap out of the hypnotic action that took place, "I mean, he had long hair…How'd you do that?" he says with a heavy breathing New York accent.

"He's crazy and freakishly pale" The blonde man looks curious but restrains to ask about what he just saw_, suit or power, that is some weird shit._ "Hey, why do you care about us anyway?"

"Freakishly pale you say," _that must be the guy I saw_. Peter looks at the Blonde Man and responds to his question, "I do it because It's my responsibility, or so I like to believe. Anyways, please be careful, and you have no idea how helpful you've been."

As Peter prepares to take off, the Blonde Man tells him, "Hey! Yo! Before you go, my name is Saul. I don't know why I needed to tell you my name, but there it is."

"Well Saul, I appreciate your help." Peter gives him a slight salute as he leaves. "Thanks, both of you."

* * *

-A young man too experienced to be young, but too young to be old-

Peter barely with an hour of sleep is headed to school. It was always a struggle for Peter to go to school since he always felt like a reject. Now though, with his newfound abilities, he finds it even more of a hassle to go to school. Before, he felt different, but now he knows he's different.

Peter waits for the bus just around the corner of his home. He sees all the "in crowed kids" drive by, as one by one passes, he holds his urge of just wanting to swing his web shooters; Or run faster than one of their cars. _Flash's car is probably worth more than Aunt May's house, Jesus._ Peter continues to take the bus, most days, out of respect for his Aunt. He doesn't want to lie to her. At least not that much.

A lonesome ride, to a lonesome feeling he thought to himself.

Still, having great strength and agility only gave him a peek at the underbelly of the city. He patrols the city when school is over, and it's been one ride after the next. He wants to swing and fight crime. It gives him the feeling of a daredevil. He wears a costume, just a black shirt with hockey pads, and a wrestling mask. It does the job, but it's been leaving him vulnerable.

Lost in thought regarding suit improvements,

"Peter! Peter!"

He snaps out of it. "Uh, yeah, what?" The classroom laughs in unison. He smiles, confused with the situation.

"Peter, I would like you to show Ms. Gwen Stacy around the school, can you do that?" Ms. Octavius asks.

Ms. Octavius always had a soft spot for Peter. He liked her because she was trying to get him to talk after the death of his Uncle. She cared, so he appreciated the courtesy. He also was in awe of her brilliance. The fact that she taught in Highschool was a gift, he thought.

"Sure, I guess. I mean couldn't Flash or someone else do—"

"Come on Peter don't be like that."

And so the day went for Peter. He longs for the thrill of being Spider-Man, but he's to be the tour guide.

"Well, this here is the Band room, down the hall to your right is the Gym. And" Peter walks and talks as if he's ready for this tour to be over.

"Hey, I know you don't want to be my tour guide but come on. You could've just weaseled your way out of this." Gwen frowns at Peter, her blonde hair only brightens her skin and sharpens her electric blue eyes.

"Oh, um," Peter is surprised to be called out by the new girl. "Yeah, uh, sorry you got stuck with a boring tour guide. Since you know tours are fun as hell." A coy smile appears on his face.

"Oh, wow. I didn't sign up for this." Gwen gives Peter a frustrated look. "Yeah, be that guy. To think Ms. Octavius spoke highly of you, and she straight up said you were a cool guy. Smart, but you seem to be the opposite." She starts walking in the long hall.

"I probably should've weaseled out of this tour guide business." He says humorously.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Michael? Was it, I don't know? Peace dude, I'm out."

Ah, Pete, this girl doesn't know you.

Peter notices a water bottle on the floor as she walks towards it. _Should I or should I not, that is the question?! Of course, I will. _"Hey, look out for the water bottle in front of you" Peter raises his voice so she can hear him.

Her eyes wander towards the bottle, while her mind lingers on Peter's voice, resulting in almost falling. _How did he see that, what,_ "How did you…" _where's my tour guide_…she lets out a small chuckle. She composes herself, patting herself down before anyone could see her unsettled.

* * *

Gwen strolls along the hall until she reaches the elevator. _Ms. Octavius was in room 204, might as well spend the time I got left getting to know my teachers._ As she walks, she ponders the idea of being in a new school. Boredom, always the boredom.

"Hi, Ms. Octavius." She enters the room, charismatic and charming. "My tour guide guided himself out of guiding me," Gwen tells Ms. Octavius with a slight chuckle. "I'm not bothered by the fact he left me, but I know that being left is not a good look."

"Really?" Ms. Octavius seems surprised at first. "Be that as it may, Peter has been acting strange lately, well ever since…" She stops herself from talking about Peter's personal life. She understands that it is not her place to discuss such matters. "Anyways, my apologies for choosing Peter as your guide. If your still interested I could assign one of the chess club members to continue—"

"Nah, I'm fine." She sits on the desk by the window. "What's Midtown like," asks Gwen.

"Well, Gwen—"

"Besides geeky guys running off I mean." She said with a smile.

Ms. Octavius gives out a small chuckle. "I would say it's filled with clichés. All of them play out in this school," she begins to fix her notes on her desk. "One thing is for certain Gwen. You're a very talented person." She looks at Gwen who stares outside through the window. "You will do well here as you did in your previous school."

Gwen suddenly looks puzzled that her previous school history is known.

"Gwen, I know your father, he's a good man. Plus, I make it a point to know my students."

"How do you know my Dad?"

"Well, I helped him solve a case some time ago. It was the basis of my book, 'The Midtown Horrors: The Vampire of New York,' I guess we both helped each other out." She looks to the floor as if reminiscing about a peculiar moment.

Gwen notices Peter outside, _This guy I would've been home by now instead of roaming the school. What a— _

"Gwen…" Gwen lost in thought,

"Yes," she turns to Ms. Octavius. "I'm sorry I got distracted." She shakes her head. "It's ridiculous I would've been home already."

"He's a good student." She stands by the window to take in the view, "I tend to want to get along with students who are very high on the IQ department. Most students are very easy to get along with because they want the attention, but Peter seems to be a roadblock."

"Maybe, he doesn't want to make friends with you." She said bluntly. "I mean, it's hard enough to open up to people, now imagine talking to a stranger." _Ah, Gwen, why did I say that._

Ms. Octavius gives her a cheerful look, "It's not about wanting to be best buds, Gwen. It's about having direction. Peter is one of the brightest minds I've ever encountered. I know he will amount to great things, but what if he could achieve them sooner rather than later?" She gives Gwen a smirk while she goes to her desk. "That's the idea. I don't want to intrude into people's personal life, but if those things come forward, I'm here to help." She gathers other papers from her desk, "in other words, Gwen, I want to be a teacher."

Gwen gets up in disagreement, "Well, my Dad is outside." As she starts to gather herself, so does Ms. Octavius, "leaving at the same time?"

"Yes, I noticed you were making time, so I decided to give you an audience." She once again smirks at Gwen. "And Gwen, please give Peter a second chance. Those first impressions sometimes aren't the best. He's been through a lot these past months." As she leaves, "He's been acting out of character lately, but I know you'll enjoy the company of the young man I know he is."

* * *

Meanwhile,

"Time to find the Pale Man," Peter jumps from a tall building with no fear what so ever. He swings with strong thrusts and mathematical precision examining the areas he traverses. He continues to marvel at his newfound abilities such as enhanced vision and athletic flexibility. _All these strengths only to continue to end up empty-handed._

He sits on the edge of the bank near the last attack. He wonders if this Pale Man was simply a one-time deal. _Where are you Pale Man, where are you?_ He examines the area for specific exits and entry points. "If I recall correctly, he had a syringe, blood on his clothes, and mouth." Peter continues to ponder the thought of the Pulse Guy, the inevitable what if? "One of these days Pulse Guy you're going to get a taste of your own medicine." And just like that, it hits him, a eureka moment. "Medicine, syringe!" the idea races to his head. "A hospital or clinic. A clinic is more likely, smaller, fewer issues involved."

He found three clinics nearby, _google search baby. I guess it's time for detective Peter to get to work. _As he approaches his first clinic, he finds the usual, people suffering and no Pale Man. The second clinic seems empty.

The final one, _come on Pale Man I know you're up to something. _"Whoa" Peter is shocked to see a full task force outside the clinic.

"Come out with your hands on your head! We don't want to hurt any of you!" The lead police officer yells.

Peter stations himself on the building near the police are situated.

"AGH! We need this to survive! Master Calls!" Several voices are yelling in unison. "Help!" "Master!" "The Spider"

The police wait patiently. "These guys are a bunch of looneys Captain, I say we just break in and let loose," The Captain looks at the cop with a dismissive look.

"Imagine we did that, then what? One shot there, or there, I don't know maybe they get you or a hostage. Perhaps a suicide." He turns to look at the entrance of the clinic, "We need more men. I need to find out what these guys want and who they are." The Captain continues to count his options, "They certainly sound crazy, but maybe we can use that to our advantage."

The officer looks confused, "How Capt. Stacy?" He responds.

"Crazies like to act crazy, they tend to stall, because they have no real plan. The more they stall, the more time we get to figure them out."

_Stacy? As in Gwen Stacy? Ha, what are the odds? Then again, Pete, it's New York. A couple of hundred thousand Stacy's I bet. _Peter analyzes the notices the police have created a perimeter, _good. The clinic is bound to have an opening on the roof, but then what, I guess we'll find out now, won't we? _

As Peter carefully avoids detection, he finds the entrance he had hoped. What came next shocked him. It reminded him he had only been wearing the mask for a good six months. He could swing and fight well enough to handle thugs, but this was something else. Peter was not ready.


	3. Chapter 3: The Stranger, A Pale man

Ch 3: The Stranger, a Pale man

There I was, in the void, waiting to be awakened. All I could smell was blood. Oh, that blood.

Gwen waits for her father inside his police car. Her face is disinterested in the situation. She can't help but feel numb to the moment. She questions her coldness to the situation, so she puts music to distract herself.

(And We Die Young-Faster We Run)

She observes the policemen as they look worried and scared. She fixes her hair as she notices more activity from afar. The red and blue lights color the entire area. The song goes on.

(Scaries On The Wall-Scaries On His Way)

Her father is farther away, but he seems composed. She sits back and adjusts her seat to lay down. The lights and the song give her an image. She feels seduced by a strange feeling. She then notices through the rearview mirror a pale man crawling on the back of the car.

She's quick, but he's quicker. The night is black, but police lights pour in red and blue hues. A strange color that gives the Pale Man a look of animalistic thirst. His eyes take the night skies romance and seemingly perverse it. The song ends in its abrupt fashion.

(And We Die Young)

* * *

Peter firmly makes his way inside the clinic. The lights, for the most part, are broken if not off completely. The room he entered was empty and tossed. Papers are everywhere, and some are flying through the shattered window. The glass on the floor provides eerie sounds as he tries to avoid it. He reaches a hallway with a strong, blue, white, bulb flinching like an eye staring at the sun for too long. He walked towards the visible shadows at the end of the hall. Patients and nurses seemed to be standing still, like dummies in a wax museum, with their expressions without life.

"Hey, mam, are you ok? Did anyone hurt you?" Peter asked, worried that he may be too late.

The nurse starts walking in a certain direction as if she is being programmed to walk. The others seemed to be staying still. Peter notices that there is blood on the feet on some patients_, no shoes, damn! I need to get these people to safety. I mean the cavalry is eager to storm in. _

He tries to gather everyone, in till he notices a large sum of blood on the floor near a room. The blood reflects an image from inside the room. A light flickers and Peter get closer, like a moth to a flame. _What is that, I need to be ready, I've dealt with bad guys before, but this is all kinds of whacky. _

The smell of blood is something that stays with you, especially if it's not your blood. For Peter, it is a marker of shame. He failed this person who lies lifeless in front of him.

The body lay on a wheelchair. It seems drained from life. Marks on his arms and neck are visible. A struggle was met with this victim. _Strange, the blood is on the floor and walls, but none on him. Who could've done something like this?_

Peter notices the cops are finally coming in but in an unusual fashion. The policemen are coming in casual wear. _I don't think they know that these people are defenseless. _He decides to web-up each patient and nurse to the walls as a safety precaution. He quickly jumps to the nearest exit, a window. Foolishly, he didn't consider the outside police. His senses spiral out of control. His instincts kick in, and he runs. The police in shock that a man can run on walls stay stagnant.

_I guess the shock held their guns at bay? Hurray Peter! _

Peter's plans take a sudden shift when he spots a police car being torn apart. _The Pale Man?_

"To hell with this, I'm taking this Spider freak down!" one police officer yells.

BAM.

* * *

Several police officers shoot at the Spider-Man.

"Stop! Stop!" Capt. Stacy tells his men. The policemen continue their shooting competition which angers Capt. Stacy, but his curiosity also blames Spider-Man.

Peter shoots his web towards the shaking cop car and swings towards it. The cops are shocked and scared that the Spider-Man will attack. Peter lands on the roof of the broken cop car and sees a trail of blood leading towards the bushes. He follows.

"God damn it, don't shoot! What's wrong with you? Acting like a bunch of idiots over here." Captain Stacy lectures his men. "Our guys and civilians are in that building you guys just massacred!" Capt. Stacy flicks his hair. His stomach suddenly drops when he realizes Gwen was waiting in his car, "the car that Spider-Man landed on."

"Gwen!" he rushes towards the car, only to find the signs of a struggle. He struggles to keep his balance. He composes himself, combing down his chin and beard. He unbuckles his gun holster. "Mike and Jimmy with me, DeWolf keep the perimeter sound. Make sure the men control themselves and get in contact with someone inside."

DeWolf is a good officer moving up in the ranks and a favorite of Capt. Stacy. "Where will you go, sir? You sure you don't want more men—

"No, I'm good by myself, but I'm going to need witnesses," he turns to Mike and Jimmy. He gives them a stern look, a superior looking at his students, "Ok, DeWolf? —

"…"

"Good"

Capt. Stacy goes into the night as he follows the blood trail, confused and worried. His thoughts only arrive at his worse fears. Death is always a thought a policeman dwells on, it's part of the job, but a death in the family? That is true fear.

* * *

As he rushes towards a never-ending goal, the Pale Man smells prey. Gwen, barely able to breathe and see, notices Spider-Man following them. Her eyes widen, afraid, but unable to emote. The Pale Man has her from the arm, dragging her through grass and dirt. She bleeds from her forehead, her lips, and neck.

"What kind of thing does this kind of damage?" Peter says to himself. His thoughts centered on what will be at the end of the trail.

Soon enough, the Pale Man is visible. His hair is black as night, standing in stark contrast to his skin, pale white. He's dressed roughed up attire—a jacket and torn up jeans— yet, he walks with a certain bravado. The Pale Man turns to look at Gwen when he notices her staring back at him. She seems calm as if she knows him.

"Pleeese, le..let…let me go…" she said as tears roll down her cheeks.

The Pale Man pulls out a cloth from his jacket and wipes the tears off her cheeks. Peter meanwhile hides atop a tree, waiting for an opening. He doesn't quite get the situation, but getting Gwen is a top priority.

"Spider, don't make me kill you" His voice is cool, collected.

_What! How! _Peter surprised to be spotted doesn't know how to handle the situation. He drops down, "you were dragging her, and now you're the good guy. Why the pleasantries?" Peters' voice is stoic, trying to sound calm. Trying and trying.

"What can I say, I don't want to kill her." He looks at Gwen with a caring smile. "She reminds me of someone I use to know, a long time ago, but alas I want to know if she can help me find her." He sits down next to Gwen. He breathes a sigh of relief.

Peter surprised by the question. _What's his game, why Gwen and why not just run away?_

"She's innocent. She isn't a part of—"

"I asked you what does this girl mean to you? Not if she was a good girl. Now, what does this girl mean to you?" The Pale Man's face is charming, but his eyes unearth hidden desires. Peter can't shake off the feeling that his answer will seal Gwen's fate. The Pale Man's eyes turn from blue to black as he holds Gwen life at his fingertips.

"She means a lot to me. To others. She is important to the people she knows, what else can I tell you?" Peter knows that this pale figure can easily kill her. If he is the sole person responsible for the clinic attack, he is more than capable of killing him.

The Pale Man raises his arm to strike.

"Wait!" Peter quick to throw his web to his hand, but the Pale man tears through his web. Peter jumps towards him, but alas his movements do not fulfill his potential.

The Pale Man flies atop a tree with Gwen by his side. "Are you ready to answer my question? I can smell your blood Spider. In all my years I've never smelled one like yours, and someone how I can't smell your feelings." He laughs in the excitement of talking with Peter. "I can't tell if you're lying to me or not, it's fantastic. Do you know how tiresome it is to know each person's motives," he looks to the sky, he looks towards the lights approaching.

"Ah, the law is near. Now please answer me, my question…" he looks down at Peter eagerly awaiting his answer.

"I…I care for her. I know her." Peter knows what he's done. He has endangered Gwen but was it the right choice?

"I like that answer. She's yours." He drops her gently on the ground. He caresses her hair as he leaves her with Peter. "Spider, let's continue out talk in private, yeah?" He backs away slowly until he flys to the top of the tree again. "Before I leave," he looks at Peter with strange blue eyes. "My name is Morbius."

Without a sound, he vanished in the dark.

"Gwen!" Capt. Stacy said as he and his squad rush towards her.

"She is alone, but she is fine, sir."

Capt. Stacy looks around with his gun in his hand. He examines a circle perimeter. "Send the dogs, and some men to check the area, now!"

He checks his daughter. He fears the worse, but she is with him. He holds her in his arms as he whispers, "I'm here, I'm here."

* * *

Peter wakes up in his room, surprised, sweating, and confused. He looks at his room, full of posters, a cheap laptop, and dirty clothes_. What happened, bad dream?_ To his surprise, he slept with his costume. _Not a dream, Damn. What the hell was that situation?_

He gets ready for school when he notices a note placed on the outside of his room door.

"Peter, I left some breakfast, your favorite chocolate banana pancakes, covered on the kitchen table. Anyways, I'm out with the new neighbors, the Watsons, so don't worry about me. They seem nice. Also please be careful on your way to school since there was a man outside laughing hysterically last night. Also, don't overwork yourself.

Love you,

Aunt May.

P.S. I didn't know you liked that Spider fellow on the news so much!"


	4. Chapter 4: The Dawn Killer: A Vamp in NY

Ch 4: The Dawn Killer, A Vampire in New York

God looks down on us and whispered,

He thought of death and its raging hormones, how Vietnam wasn't that long ago, and of the rampant drugs and violence that floods the veins. He thinks about these things, and if God truly cares for us all. Does God truly have a plan? If so, does he work in mysterious ways? Or is he cruel? Contemplates on his partner and how he just had a baby girl. He remembers his wife, a reminder of something good, and the love she brings to the world. His gaze is centered on a Christ painting on the wall when he speaks, "The image of a mountain that is awesome in size compels one to feel something unrecognizable, something daunting, yet beautiful." He faces the picture, "I believe you don't understand us. What makes matters worse is you probably don't understand what haunts people at night."

**THE YEAR 1988**

"Lieutenant? The family is here, the one you asked for."

"Excuse me?"

"The family of the slain girl, sir?"

"Of course, yes, of course."

George Stacy is losing his grasp on what grounds his sanity. He hears the moans of a grieving family, but he must do his duty. He prepares to head out and present the unfortunate news. On the way there he sees the tv playing the nightly news. "Violence, drugs, and sex. President Reagan is not in control, but who is?" The thought fades away quicker than a shadow on the sun.

"Lieutenant, you ok? I can do it for you, sir?"

"Sometimes they lose sight of what's important." He says to anyone willing to hear.

The family stares at the man walking towards them from across the hallway. Tragedy has struck them. The voiceless matriarch wept, her presence felt across the room. She knows what has happened, the younger of the group, a baby, weep loudly. Stacy wonders if the baby understands the situation, the baby is afraid. He is innocent, but one that has lost a mother. Does he know? His reaction is too haunting as if it is aware that his mother has gone to the other side. The sister of the victim screams for answers. The baby continues to weep. The matriarch knows, she mourns.

Silence engulfs the family, followed by a large faint scream.

* * *

"What do we got?"

"It's bad, Lieutenant, the body…it's bad."

"What's your name? Brian, is it?"

"Yes, sir. It's my first—"

"I don't care if it's your first time. We all have a first time." Capt. Stacy responds.

"Yes, sir."

Captain Stacy continues to be on the edge of spiraling down.

"Well, I can see what you meant." Stacy's eyes sag in depression. The weight of this violence is heavy.

"Christ!" someone gruffly muttered. The scene looks grey and smutty. The police pathologist stood next to a sheet of soiled canvas. Something bumpy was clearly under it. She was staring at it, glaring attentiveness. Motionless. Only her breath gave her life. Abruptly she started to talk to Stacy,

"You know those cuts on the victim's left hand?"

"What about them?"

"They've got a pattern."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, I think so. The markings inscribed form the letter B and a negative sign. It points to the Dawn Killer, or as I like to call him, the Vampire..."

"The Dawn killer because he kills near Dawn, but why call him the Vampire?" Brian asks, genuinely interested.

"Maria calls him, or 'it' the Vampire because the killer drains the blood. But he does it by sticking tiny tubes on the neck areas and other obscene parts of the body."

Stacy begins to get closer to the body, or what's left of it, noticing some precise cuts on the back.

"The markings on each victim are letters, but written in an old Romanian letter, similar to old Latin." She said as she writes notes. "The letter symbols, in this case, B-, I believe point to the blood type. We can't test it due to the draining of the blood fluids, note."

"Three killings in five weeks…there's got to be something here, some clue that points to the obvious."

Maria looks sternly to Stacy.

"Sir, nothing is obvious. I think we found everything that we are going to find here."

* * *

Driving at night is a daunting thing. The city never sleeps, yet with a killer on the loose everyone seems quiet. Stacy begins to see the dead bodies the killer has been leaving behind. As if to toy with the people in the city or the police. As if it's a game. Bite marks on the neck and chess. Broken bones and ripped bodies. No blood.

"What a weird way to die," he said softly.

Maria reading her notes can't be bothered by Stacy's grandiose question.

"So unnatural."

Maria's eyes finally move from her notes. She seems irked by the remark, "no death is natural," she murmured.

Captain Stacy nods in agreement. "I guess you're right."

_There is a creator, someone who molded this world. Good and bad. It makes sense to me. But why give us consciousness? Why provide the tools to discern what is good and bad? The eyes to recall the horrors. Is it a survival mechanism? Oh, why God, why have you given this world an eye to see._ A thought in search of its maker, making George Stacy a blind man looking for a great art piece. He is certain the universe was full of great things, but on the impossible? No. On a God who is all knowing? Of course not. _But why is it easier to believe in the evil of the world, than the almighty?_ Why indeed.

* * *

PRESENT DAY

"George, it's been a while." Ms. Octavius surprised by the call.

"Yes, look we need to talk"

"I can't right now, I'm talking to one of my students, can this—" She signals her student to give her a second.

"He's back Maria." He said.

"What do you mean? Who's back?" Puzzled by the conversation.

"The Vampire."

Maria stays calm in front of her student. She nods in an attempt to act normal.

"Give me a second George," Maria turns her attention to her student. "Peter, I'm so sorry, but something just came up right now." She takes a deep breath.

"It's ok, Ms. Octavius." Peter looks as if he hasn't slept in days and it shows. He wanted to talk about Gwen and how he blames himself for her recent attack. But coding his feelings have become a splinter to his moral.

"Peter, I'm going to talk to your Aunt. You look exhausted, I know you've been helping out at home, and I believe it's been taking a toll on you."

"No, no, I'm fine. I just wanted to talk, but I'm ok." His voice fades away.

"You sure?" she smiles at him.

"Yeah."

He gathers his things and starts heading out.

"Oh! And Peter,"

Peter turns around surprised. He catches a notebook.

"I want you to write to me about whatever you want to express on there." She gives him a smile in reassurance. "I won't ask questions. Think of it as a conversation, but the response to anything you want to talk about will come later. So write, write, write, please. Write anything."

He smiles, he holds his tears back. "I will."

She looks at Peter as he leaves with a concerned look. She picks up her phone, "George?"

George Stacy voice is quick and steady, "I'm outside."

She leans in towards the window. She notices Peter walking past the home bus. _Where on earth are you heading for Peter?_ She sees Capt. Stacy enters the school bringing back memories of old cases and the day they killed the Vampire of New York.


	5. Chapter 5: Let's Reminisce, Gwen Stacy

Ch 5: Lets Reminisce, You, Me, and Gwen Stacy

Her face slightly bruised, her hair is messy, and she's still sleepy. She needs to wake up. She sits up, lazing out of her covers. She reaches out and grabs the stuffed dinosaur her father gave to her for her 6th birthday. _Why don't I feel anything? Attacked and nearly killed, yet I want to scream and jump in excitement. I'm not shaken by it, why? _

Gwen gets up and puts her music out loud on shuffle. She wants a surprise. She needs a jolt. The song starts, she starts jumping and moving awkwardly, she isn't much of a dancer, but that's not stopping her.

(Oh God, it's raining

But I'm not complaining

It's filling me up

With new life)

She gathers her things, clothes and such. She dances while picking her outfit. Her room is neat, very spacy. She jumps and moves her hips side to side. She sings along the deep voice engulfing her head "It's filling me up with neeeww liiiife."

(The stars in the sky

Bring tears to my eyes

They're lighting my way

Tonight)

She laughs, dances, and jumps. The feeling of getting lost in song and mood leaves her with enthusiasm; she can't shake off the feeling of having a warm embrace, she feels happy.

She finally chooses an outfit. _8:05 AM, huh. Dad will be home soon. Ah,_ she takes a deep breath, "somehow, having my father and others question me scares me," she sits on her bed and slowly lies down. Staring at the ceiling waiting for her father to get home.

(The moon

Is shining in the sky

Reminding me

Of so many other nights

But they're not like tonight)

* * *

She reclines the seat backward stretches the morning laziness off. The car ride is slightly bumpy, but that never bothered Gwen. The houses blur together creating a weird rainbow-like effect. She lowers the window so the breeze could touch her hand. She slightly pulls the seat back up to enjoy the breeze. Her hair smothers her face as the wave of air washes over her.

Capt. Stacy feels the breeze hit his face. "Gwen?" she slowly turns. "You're going to have your window open until we arrive, aren't you?"

"Oh, you mean this one?" she sarcastically points to the passenger window. "Maybe, I haven't decided yet. How about you let me hear my music in your police car in exchange I raise the window? Deal?" She said as her smile widens.

"Well, what music did you have in mind, young lady?"

"I've been getting into 80's Depeche Mode, Joy Division, and some U2." She answers with an honest tone.

"You would freak out how, back in the day, the fans of some of those groups were territorial. They wouldn't easily name drop each other" He tells Gwen as her attention is the breeze. "but I bet you knew that…hey, let's listen to some of that music."

Music is important to Gwen. Her whole mood and vibe centers on songs, albums, lyrics, and singers. She prizes her record collection, but nowadays it's her phone that carries the years worth of music history.

It's a Wednesday morning on the cool springtime. "Ok, what do I put…ah yes." The intro to Jeff Buckley's Last Goodbye plays as the breeze smother her hair. She can't help but smile.

(This is our last goodbye

I hate to feel the love between us die

But it's over

Just hear this and then I'll go

You gave me more to live for

More than you'll ever know)

Capt. Stacy turns to Gwen, "Ok, you mentioned 80s bands, that doesn't sound 80s to me."

She smirks, "Dad, just let it play and be cool." She said as she stretches and yawns.

* * *

They arrive at the police station to the greetings of Ms. Octavius. Gwen surprised by Ms. Octavius appearance she asks her father, "Why is she here?"

"Gwen, nice to see you're ok, your hair is very…"

"She didn't pull up the window," Capt. Stacy says as he gives Gwen a harsh glare. "But she came."

"Ms. Octavius, if you don't mind me asking, why are you here?" Gwen asks.

"Gwen," Captain Stacy said with a stern tone.

"It's ok George," she turns to Gwen, "I'm here to help your father and hopefully get closer to feeling safe."

* * *

As they walk inside the station, the word busy would be an understatement. Cases on mutants, mob bosses, vigilantes, collaborations with Avengers and the Fantastic Four, as well as the notorious Spider-Man, are heard throughout the station.

"Just ignore the cluster mayhem that is the station ok." Capt. Stacy tells Gwen, He looks for Dewolff, "Dewolff! Where are you?" She is quick to raise her hand full of papers seen across the crowded desks and floor.

"I'm here Cap!" she gets up and fixes her wardrobe. "I'm here, sir."

"Dewolff this here is my daughter, Gwen, Gwen this is one of my best, Dewolff."

Both exchange pleasantries.

"And this is Dr. Maria Octavius-"

"Dr. Octavius? The Dr. Octavius?"

Dr. Octavius flattered by the reaction, "yes, I'm the one. But let's get down to business, ok. I don't need someone to hold this case back."

"No, mam. I won't hinder this case." Dewolff assures her, but she can't help being a bit awestruck by the Doctor. "I'm just, well, I've read your work and case files on many other cases you worked on."

Gwen looks surprised. She turns to look at Ms. Octavius, "Dr? Cases? Why the secrecy?" she waits for a response, curious.

"Yes, there are a lot of things you don't know about me Gwen, in fact, no one at the school knows these details, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Capt. Stacy interrupts the exchange, "I don't know why Gwen has it against you Dr. Octavius, but she does." He turns to Gwen with a confused face. "I'm sure we will work it out though, right honey?"

Gwen, with her hands in her pockets, nods in approval.

"I have to take care of some things, but please wait patiently in the interrogation room." Captain Stacy tells them. "Dewolff, bring the case file with you, I shouldn't take long."

"You got it, sir," Dewolff said.

As they start walking towards their destination, "Gwen, honey, everything is going to be fine. Ok."

"Ok." She said optimistically.

* * *

Gwen sits across Dr. Octavius. Gwen pretends to be distracted, while Dr. Octavius reads the case file. Dewolff stays standing up, wondering what Dewolff is thinking of her case file. She is nervous but tries to stay calm.

"So, why the secrecy?" Gwen asks bluntly.

Dr. Octavius continues to analyze the details of the case file. As a result, Gwen chuckles.

"Dr. Octavius? Ms. Octavius!?"

Dewolff is alarmed by the sudden amplified Gwen.

"Gwen, my personal life is just that, personal." She continues to read the file. She starts adding notes and corrections to the file.

Dewolff notices, "Dr. Octavius, mam, what exactly are you writing on the case file? Capt. Stacy said not to start without him." She looks frustrated by Dr. Octavius lone action.

"I'm simply correcting some of the things on the file that does not represent the case at hand correctly…" She finally raises her head, looking directly at Dewolff, "from what I gather with my time researching this current case and my personal experience from the past, I believe certain things need to be updated."

"But you just edited my work, in fact, you 'corrected' my work." She gets closer to the table. "I'm quite annoyed by it, mam."

Dr. Octavius looks at the young officer, "I know, that's good. I was in the same position as you, but unlike me, the people correcting my work didn't give a rats ass about my feelings or career." She walks towards the door as she said, "From what Captain Stacy has told me, I hold you in high regard, I care for your career Dewolff." Dewolff meagerly awaits Dr. Octavius next response. "One thing you have to remember Dewolff is that cases like these aren't solved alone. I'm your partner, so get with the program."

The knot in her stomach tightens, but Dewolff keeps her cool. Dr. Octavius leaves the room methodically.

"Ouch…" Gwen stares at Dewolff with a sly smirk. "My dad always gets me with those." Gwen begins making a Dr. Octavius impression, "I wasn't attacking your intelligence, insert, I'm actually on your side." She leans forward, "It's the guilting you to accept their point strategy."

Dewolff smiles at the observation. "The difference is I'm a 22 yr. old police officer." She said with a cool deminer about the situation. "I shouldn't have shown my frustration."

"Hey, come on. Give this 15-year-old a little credit. I'm ahead of my peers in questioning authority as well as making my teachers look like fools." Both share a small laugh.

"Well, I believe your father won't be back in, at least, half an hour. Do you want anything? We have sandwiches, chips, soda?"

"you know what, yeah, I'll get a sandwich and a water."

* * *

Dr. Octavius walks towards the room as she sees Dewolff exit drinking a coffee. She then turns to Capt. Stacy's office upstairs, where he is seen arguing over the phone. She proceeds to enter the interrogation room.

Gwen starts laughing as she is startled by the sudden entrance of Dr. Octavius. She has a mouth full of the sandwich as she smiles. She then swallows and takes a deep sigh, "ok that was…" she pumps her chest, "that was loud and, and…just loud." She looks at Dr. Octavius ready to burst out laughing, but she notices how Dr. Octavius doesn't flinch. "You real badass ball buster, huh? How do you change from schoolteacher to this?"

"No, actually I'm just me."

"…"

"Gwen, how's life treated you for the past week? Besides the obvious." She fixes her things on the table, files and some other paperwork. "Any school problems, friends, a boyfriend, perhaps?"

"Since the attack, I haven't gone to school. Friends, I guess I haven't had the time. Boyfriends, I don't have my mind on any guy lately. Schoolwork has never been a problem so that…that's it, I guess."

"How about at home?"

"I don't know…I'm fine, I guess. Why the questions?"

"Your father and I go way back…way, way back." She gives a slight smirk. "You weren't even born yet, god, how the time passes."

"When did you meet my dad?"

"Back in 1985, we were both 20, scratch that he was 22. But yeah, we were upstarts, he was very upfront back then, very brave, too brave." She gives a small chuckle.

Gwen smiles at the thought of a young version of her father. She rarely hears of the past, but when she does, she makes sure to remember it.

She takes a drink from her coffee. "You know, I still remember the time your father nearly got into a fight with our Captain back in the day. Our Captain was very old school, very stubborn. He didn't believe women could handle police work. Well, your father thought otherwise. He would end up flipping the Captains desk." Dr. Octavius eyes widen at the thought of the moment. "Your father would end up getting suspended. Still, our Captain noticed the lengths his best policeman went to prove his point. Suffice to say it worked."

"My dad rarely talks about his work. I do remember him talking about a 'Maria,' and I'm guessing that's you."

She nods, "probably, well, I hope so." They both share a laugh.

"You know I did get hit on by a jock on my first week of school. It was so weird because he literally just put his arm around me and started smooth talking to me." She tilts her head with a smirk.

"Let me guess, Flash? Tall and blonde? Football player jock." She smiles.

"Yeah, I heard his girlfriend call him out, and he quickly ran away." She laughs.

"Don't let that big Oaf scare you. He can be an idiot, but he has a good heart. I know he does," she says with a softer tone. "But he never wants to show it. It's as if he's embarrassed to be a good guy."

"Well, he's not ugly" Gwen responds with a small chuckle. "But first impressions I guess can be rocky." She looks at Dr. Octavius in reference to her discussion about Peter.

Dr. Octavius smiles at the gesture.

She notices the time on her phone and wonders why Captain Stacy is taking so long. _He's taking his sweet time, isn't he?_

* * *

"Ok, let's get started." Captain Stacy enters the room and begins setting up a voice recorder, paper, and pen on the table. "Now, Gwen last time Dewolff and I got your statement, but I want to go over it again. Only this time I want you to remember everything you can leading up to the attack."

"I mean, as I said, I was dragged"

"No, everything Gwen., your morning, bus ride, school, all of it." He sits down on the chair. He is seated slightly away from the interrogation table. "Try to remember more than what you told us. Dr. Octavius might ask some questions, but it's all about trying to get a clearer picture."

"Yeah."

She goes over her usual routine, her morning and bus ride, but it isn't in till she mentions Peter Parker that piques Captain Stacy's interest.

"Let me get this straight, this Peter Parker, he acted strange with you, and then moments later you saw him skip the bus route?"

"He just seemed like a dork, though." She says with a smirk. "But yeah, he skipped the bus."

"George, Peter is a good student, granted he's been missing some school days, but nothing out of the ordinary." Dr. Octavius says with a sense of annoyance at the idea that Peter is involved in this case.

"So this Peter Parker acts a certain way and skips the bus, yet you guys don't find that weird?" He stands up to stretch his legs, "by the sound of it, we know he doesn't participate in afterschool activities, so it does beg the question why was he there? Besides giving my daughter a tour of the school, which wasn't pre-planned."

"Ok, I get your point, but why would a good student suddenly start trying to replicate, I mean, why would Peter attack Gwen? How is he truly connected, is what I'm asking?" She asks.

He notices her piercing eyes staring at him. He feels her annoyance and so decides to let the issue fall on the backburner.

"Ok, we'll revisit this point later." Capt. Stacy gives Dr. Octavius an irritated look. "Ok, Gwen go on, continue with your side of the story."

"I think I lasted 10 mins or so talking with Ms. Oct, I mean Dr. Octavius." She's looking down, while Dr. Octavius drinks a sip of her water. "After that, you picked me up, which is when they called you to check out that clinic."

"Ok, I then told you to stay put, since the call wasn't serious. It wasn't in till we got there that Dewolff told me the situation."

"You then told me to stay put and lock the doors, so I did."

Capt. Stacy takes a seat. He moves his chair closer to the table.

"I'm not sure but think I waited in the car for a good hour or hour and a half. Then, well, I heard a loud thump on the top of the car. Which was weird, but then the police started to shoot at something, so the noise was off the charts" Gwen widens her eyes remembering the event. She sounds shaky, wanting to discuss other matters, like the stories Dr. Octavius was telling her. She twirls her hair as she tries to remember the details.

"Yes, my squad acted rash and shot at the Spider-Man." Captain Stacy said. He looks embarrassed by the incident. "My men, I mean, we should've been more careful."

"Spider-Man…he was there…well that was before the loud sound." Her engagement begins to strengthen as she starts recalling more details. "I heard the large sound when out of the blue a pale guy was standing at the front of the car." She looks up as if more details begin to reemerge into her mind. "Yes, he jumped on top of the car, and again it felt and sounded like he was stomping on top of the car-"

"This Pale Man, did he have long hair, short, scars, age, or anything significant?" asks Dr. Octavius

"Umm, he had long black hair and his eyes, I remember his eyes were dark blue or black. I don't remember if he had scars. His height…he was tall, wait no, he was average. Maybe 5'9 or 10. I'm betting he looked in his 20s, older but not old…"

"Ok, keep going, large sounds on top of the car?"

"Yes, it was in till I saw someone fall on the side of the car, but then in a quick, or split second the Pale Man was inside the car."

"But you had locked it? Correct?"

Gwen nods. She takes a deep breath as she remembers the beginning of her attack. "He was inside and grabbed me from my hair. I just felt the grip in a sudden shift. I was out cold." Gwen gathers herself. "I awoke being dragged through the dirt and bushes. All I could muster up was telling him to let me go. That's when Spider-Man appeared."

"Spider-Man was there. So, he didn't just leave?" Captain Stacy considers the options. "He went after you and the attacker? Strange." He turns to Dr. Octavius.

"I don't know why he was there, but he was. I would've said this sooner, but I just forgot." Gwen takes a drink of her water.

"These things happen all the time, but it's good that you remembered." Dr. Octavius stands up and comforts Gwen. "It's ok."

"Ok, is there any more Gwen?"

"Well, I think I heard Spider-Man and the other guy talking. I can't say for sure, but I…I think I heard Spider-Man saying something along the lines of living or knowing someone nearby." She contemplates on the memory.

"Gwen, that is an excellent recollection, it helps a lot." Dr. Octavius signals Capt. Stacy as if to have a word in private.

"I think that's all for today," Captain Stacy announces. "Honey, I'm going to ask Dewolff to take you home and to stay with you, ok."

"I don't want to go home; I think I rather go to school if that's fine with you?"

"That's not fine with me, sorry." Capt. Stacy looks at Gwen with fatherly eyes, worried for his daughter. "I'd rather you be at home. Ok? It would make me feel better if you were at home and Dewolff keeping an eye on you."

"Fine, I get it. Peter is a suspect." She said making a ghost sound mocking the idea of Peter being considered a culprit. "But ok, do I have to sign something or?"

"Yes," he turns to Dr. Octavius, "can you call Dewolff."

"Anyways, yes just sign the papers that Dewolff will provide and that's that."

Gwen looks at her father and gives him a tired smile. He one-arm hugs her, "everything will be fine." He kisses Gwen on the head and proceeds to lead her out towards Dewolff.

* * *

Capt. Stacy's offices are a mess: folders, papers, cigarettes, and more are visible. But he particularly likes this office because he has a clear view of the station, an all watching eye.

Dr. Octavius sits down across Capt. Stacy's desk, she gathers her notes and begins reading them out loud. He nods in recognition.

"Some details are different, different from the initial case file," Dr. Octavius said, she looks distraught. "Spider-Man being the main difference."

George gets up from his desk and gets a small folder from the corner cabinet. Maria looks puzzled, but she is curious.

"Look at this…"

She is disappointed by the efforts made by Capt. Stacy, the fact that he didn't question Gwen more thoroughly, especially regarding Spider-Man, and his suspicions of Peter have her worried about his judgment.

"What happened to you, George?"

"What happens? You mean the case or?"

"I mean, Spider-Man, the guy who swings off buildings is a suspect, which you failed to conclude in your initial case file, which by the way I know you hindered Dewolff in making it. She would've question Gwen better on her own, but she didn't." Her face begins to get more upset, red even. "And, and you want to make Peter Parker, of all the kids in school, Peter a suspect? Really? So yes, I have the right to ask you what happened." She said with a harsh tone.

"What happened!?" Captain Stacy's voice gets louder and more intense as he goes on. "What happened was my daughter got attacked by a scumbag who carved a person into pieces." He turns to the glass window in frustration. "Those pieces had the exact symbols of the Vampire Killer." Captain Stacy stands up from his desk angry, frustrated, at the thought that Dr. Octavius may be right about him. "Just look at the file Maria" his voice begins to settle down.

She looks at the file on the desk and tells Captain Stacy, "That still doesn't answer my question, George."

He looks shocked, embarrassed. He knows he hasn't handled the situation correctly. His pride is all but wounded.

"I needed an answer…it made me ignore the fact that he's just a kid.." He sits back on his chair. He takes a deep breath. He looks up in contemplation. "Peter Parker…I won't lie to you, I still have a hunch about him, but I see now how foolish I acted in just going after him. I'm sorry."

"I needed to hear that." Dr. Octavius tells him with a sense of calmness. Maria looks towards the glass window and sees all the men and women working. She's proud of him for continuing his work.

He looks towards his police force. "I've been failing these group of guys. Ever since the Avengers and superheroes started 'saving lives,' I think I let myself go a little."

She looks surprised by his proclamation. "We all did George. I decided to write books and teach, but being brought back in it certainly hits you." She turns to see him. "It hits you hard. Where have I been hiding, you ask yourself. But we all hide in plain sight."

He smirks at the idea. "I supposed I got tired of hiding."

"Me too." She smiles. "know this, I say this with the utmost honesty George, I'm proud of you."

She turns to see the file on the desk. "So the Vampire Killer, a copycat?" She asks her mind back on the case.

George surprised by her willingness to accept his apology. He's always taken her opinion to heart. Perhaps age has made us both go easier on each other.

"Open the file. I wanted to talk about it entirely when we met up at your work, but Gwen took priority. I thank you for that."

Maria nods. She then opens the file, her eyes open in disbelief, "You took these photos?"

"Yes."

"Dewolff didn't see any of this?"

"No."

"Are you sure? The necklace, the bullets?"

"Like I told you, no."

"I need to see the crime scene. I want Dewolff to question everyone again. The nurses and the patients from the clinic. I will tag along with her but let her know that it's her show. Like how we worked back in the day. "

"will do."

"This would be easier if Spider-Man hadn't thrown a ranch into our investigation…"

Both stay quiet, contemplating the evidence on the desk.

She gets up and takes one of the pictures. "How is it possible this copy-cat had the same necklace found on the victim Karen Jackson?" She goes to the glass wall and studies each cop. "Have you considered that it may have been someone from the inside?"

"It would make sense, but that would mean one of my guys is a stone-cold killer. I doubt that I mean it's damn near impossible to enter the evidence room and screw with it. It just doesn't add up when considering the lengths Dewolff and I went to see the connections to the old case."

Maria turns to see George, "are you suggesting that the Vampire is alive and not dead. So he's a 50 plus years old geezer like us!" she shrugs. "Come on now, I know mutants exist and supervillains, but immortality is something I've never seen or heard of being real."

"I saw a man throw webs and dodge bullets like clockwork. Immortality is crazy, but so was the thought of a flying man." He points to a picture of Iron Man. "I mean you named this killer the Vampire Killer, what if he is the real deal?"

"Crazy indeed." She chuckles at the idea, but one can't disregard anything. "Are you honestly suggesting he's a vampire?" She asks with a smirk on her face.

Captain Stacy gives out a slight laugh, "I guess I was heading that route…" both of them burst out laughing. "Seriously though." He composes himself. "look mutants exist, and I can't shake off that feeling that something is off. Oh and I resent being called a geezer by the way."

Both share a humorous look based on that last remark.

"Let's pretend this guy is something new or supernatural, like a mutant. I seem to recall getting some help from Dr. Charles Xavier. He said he wasn't one." She turns to the glass window, "I will reexamine the evidence room. Cameras and such." She turns to Captain Stacy. "I believe that idea is more plausible than this killer being the same guy from 30 years ago."

Silence creeps up. George lost in thought, "How tall is Peter Parker?" he asks.

She looks at him straight in the eye, "I mean, I haven't measured him, but eye test wise, maybe 5'9."

He looks to the ceiling pondering an idea that occurred in passing. "He goes to Midtown High and, ah, just forget about."

"Spider-Man, huh,"

He looks at her deflated. "The Parker kid…I can't shake off the feeling he's involved, and I know it sounds like an amazing fantasy here…" he slightly smirks at the thought.

"Yes, it does—"

"And I accept that I wasn't thinking straight…but you and I know that this case back in 1988 wasn't a normal one."

She reluctantly nods.

"I remember at points mental patients saying that 'he' was inside their heads. That he was controlling them."

"Schizophrenics, George, schizophrenics." She says in a dismissive tone. "Peter just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Maria, this vampire guy attacked my daughter…we put him down 30 or so years ago." His tone hardens. "If for some reason he is back, he may want revenge. And you just so happened to be my daughter's Highschool teacher. Coincidence? Perhaps. So, I know Peter is innocent here, more than likely not involved at all. I get that." His voice starts to soften up. "I want you to know that I'm willing to explore any and every line of possibility…I just want to be sure." He stands up, to gather himself, "If I'm going to start making things right, I need your trust. I need you to explore these lines with me."

"Ok." She says bluntly.

"Ok, you'll consider Peter Parker part of this investigation?"

"I will, but under one condition."

"You know that any condition you put I'll agree." He says confidently.

"I believe we need to start from the inside, instead of focusing on a Highschool student."

He looks embarrassed, but he agrees. "Point taken."

George stands up. He looks over the case file. "How about Dr. Xavier? Do you think we should ask for his help again?"

"Dr. Xavier?"

"So far, I believe this Vampire might be out of our field. He's the leading expert on mutants and the like, why not ask him."

"Or we have a copy-cat sitting outside of this office," she smirks only to reinforce her position, "plus I'm hesitant with outside help. What if our 'bad' history comes out?"

"I can sideline Dewolff-

"No, she's too good. We need a fresh set of eyes, and I can tell you like mentoring her. But no outsiders, no mutants or anything like that." She starts gathering her things, "We need to contain the situation. I believe we are more than capable of solving this case."

"She admires you, you know."

"You don't say." She says humorously.

Both share a small laugh.

Captain Stacy smiles, but he also admires Dr. Octavius. He is proud that his prodigy Dewolff took after her.

"She studied your case front to back. And she was the one to connect it to the Vampire Killer. I guess what I'm trying to say is you inspired one hell of a cop Maria."

Dr. Octavius tilts her head slightly down and slightly scratches her hair in flattery. She then looks at George as both share a warm smile.

"I guess it's like old times," he said.

"Quite literally in this case." Dr. Octavius responded.

* * *

Meanwhile,

The night is nearly set as Peter exists his room through the window. He waits patiently awaiting his call. Crime is always happening, so he is always out and about. But on this night Peter gets an invitation to the dance. As he is about to swing, his senses alarm him of something. The wind gushes over him as his instinct makes him look over to his neighbor's house. A strange man sits on the porch, but shadows shelter him. The man is carving a wooden stack with his bare hands.

"I knew you would come out at this time; you need to change your routine kid." The man says as he approaches Peter. The shadows slowly leave him as in by his command.

"Morbius," Peter shocked that he knows where he lives. "What do you want?" he asks, trying to keep his cool. _Where is Aunt May? What if—_

He approaches Peter, "I said, last time we met, that we needed to talk. And, well, let's talk." He leans into him as he whispers, "I didn't hurt the old lady leaving your home." He says with a menacing tone.

Peter confused as his senses tell him Morbius isn't going to attack him.

"Where is the old lady, Morbius?"

"How should I know."

Peter finally lets his guard down. He walks towards Morbius.

"What now?"

Morbius tells Peter with a grin as the moonlight takes its shape, "Now, let's begin that talk of ours."


	6. Chapter 6: Blood Soaked Spider

Ch 6: Blood Soaked Spider

A wise man points to the sky and says to the boy, "The darker the night the brighter the stars, no?" The boy replies, "But what of the sun?" The Wise Man prances back and forth in thought until he replies, "The brighter the sun, the darker the night sky…" The Boy is left to ponder the meaning of the exchange.

* * *

The graves of the unknown allures the night. The moon seems to engulf Peter's eyesight. It isn't in till they reach a tomb that led underground that Peter stopped, Morbius continues to walk disappearing into the dark.

Cemeteries always scared Peter, but now they're more reminders than ghosts. Here lie the people he couldn't save, or so he would imagine. Peter walks past the graves and broken spirits to see what Morbius has in store. He wonders what Morbius true plan is. _What are his motives?_

The moon engulfs Peter's eyes as he walks blindly towards his destination. It isn't until he notices that Morbius is leading him into an underground area in the cemetery that he stops. Morbius pale figure disappears in the dark.

"Come Spider-Man, there is much to speak about…" he says confidently as his voice trials.

And so, Peter follows.

Peter wonders into the dark hallway. His senses are calm, but his mind still lingers on the possibility of danger. All he sees is black as he walks in anticipation of Morbius. He hears echos ahead of him, and so he hurries. _Where are you leading me Morbius?_ It isn't in till he sees a light that Peter feels a sense of comfort. Considering he was all but lost in the blackness.

The light shines on shackles, rats, and dust. The room seems ransacked, trash, and stench surrounds it. In the middle of it all, Morbius. Peter notices that he is chained up to the wall behind him. Morbius sits on the floor, he speaks to himself, but Peter cannot hear him. He notices a bucket of blood next to him.

"Why lead me here?"

"I led you here to explain myself and to talk." Morbius tilts his head slightly to the side in amusement. "It's strange, but I can't read your mind," Morbius tells Peter, as he smiles. He sits on the dirt floor, chained up. "You are a strange one, Spider-Man."

"I'm the strange one, huh." Peter sits across from him on the dirt floor.

"I see…" said the vampire. Lost in thought, he stares at the fluorescent light as if it were alive. Both sat in pause. Peter could make out the room more clearly now, the struggle with chains and knives seemed to apply to Morbius chaining himself.

"Well, let's have this talk…"

"From the beginning? Or from the start of this current awakening?" He looks at Peter intensely knowing that such a question will leave him puzzled.

"What are you? Being able to read minds and seemingly move fast. Strong, I'm assuming you have the strength—"

"Only when needed—"

"What are you? A mutant?"

Morbius looks up to the ceiling as he answers, "I'm a vampire."

"…A vampire. I see, and I'm a real spider." Peter gets up and leans in on the wall. "There's got to be a better explanation than that." Peter turns to see the bucket of blood_, that would explain the hideout and night attacks, and well this current meeting. Also, pale guy, yes his skin looks dead_. Peter sits back down, "why aren't you attacking me?"

"Well," he stretches and pops his back, "You are very interesting Spider. I can't smell your blood; therefore, I can't predict your movements. And I can't read your mind. Or at least I'm having trouble reading your mind." He runs his hand and fingers through his hair. He takes a deep breath, "Ahhh, so yes, you're interesting."

Spider-Man murmurs to himself "A vampire…"

"Stare at the sun long enough and you will go blind," Morbius says with his voice sounding strained. "So, don't question a wise man Spider," His voice sounding more humorous.

"Right, because you've lived longer than anyone in the world, yet you were out and about trying to find blood from a clinic?!"

"…" initially Morbius looks confused, but then it sinks in.

"Why did you kill the people at the clinic? And why did you let the girl go?"

Morbius looks puzzled by this proclamation. "I only killed the man at the clinic because he saw me getting blood. Besides he wasn't much good to society." He turns to Peter with a wicked face. His eyes gloom in the room.

The oblivious nature of the vampire confuses Peter. He begins to see if it's true that he doesn't remember Gwen.

"Do you remember when you met me?" He asks with a more gravitas tone.

Morbius looks Peter with angry and soulless eyes. "I…I know we spoke. I wanted to talk with you, and you seemed very much inclined to accept." His face suddenly contorts into a beautiful woman as he looks up towards the light shining on his face. Peter can't believe what he is seeing.

"Morbius."

"Yes…" he looks directly at Peter.

"What's wrong?" Peter asks as he feels shocked by what he is witnessing. "I want to help. Just give me the time I'm sure I can find something. I still remember when I got my powers and how out of mind that was." Peter is genuinely handing him a helping hand.

Morbius face seemed to change again. His texture seems to resemble wet clay. Morbius tilts his head back and begins to smile. He feels the energy entering his body, but also leaving it. He slowly tilts his head downward; his hair completely covers his face.

"Morbius?" Peter reaches for his shoulder.

"Why do you want to help me" Morbius voice sounds different, childlike. "I've been a vampire for as long as I can remember…"

"Because I believe that we all deserve a second chance."

Morbius begins to laugh. His voice sounds demonic, a mixture of many different voices. At points it resembles screams.

His face changes to an honest-looking man, his eyes blue as the sky. A face ready for sunlight and warmness. "Help me, I don't know—" he cuts his own words as he begins to laugh maniacally, "Spider, what you saw is something of an oddity in my world…"

Peter jumps back as he overwhelmed by what he saw. Trying to compose himself, he feels the presence of Morbius staring at him. A face void of emotion, a face empty of feeling, a face missing a soul.

"What just happened?" he asks, confused.

"Allow me to reintroduce myself, I'm the Vampire Morbius, and I've been alive since, I don't know, mid-19th century. So, what I'm decreeing here is that I've been through many a shit and I've come out ok. But now," Morbius voice starts to trail off "I'm afraid I'm losing my mind."

Peter then decides to sit back down. His mind begins to accept some of the things it has seen. He wants to help Morbius_. Maybe if I help him, I can put out two birds with one stone. Helping him may mean stopping the murders while figuring out if there are more of him. _

"I want to help—"

"What if I don't need help Spider. What if what I want is to eat you and go find that girl you said I let go?"

Peter stares at his eyes, Morbius eyes seem cold like a lion ready to strike. "Then attack me then."

The vampire smirks at the bravery shown. "I don't know how strong these chains will hold up but take those books over there."

"What's in them?"

"My life," the vampire says with a sense of longing. "I want you to read them. My condition is well discussed in those books." He takes a deep sigh of relief. "Hurry Spider before I'm let loose and go after others…"

"Help me, help you—"

"My mind won't let me. You've seen how I can lose control…" He begins to stretch his arms. Morbius face is barely visible as his hair is covering his face. "Hey, could you pass me that bucket, there?"

"Whose blood is that?"

Only a smirk is given.

"I'll help you, but I won't feed your habit."

Peter takes the books and doesn't look back. He walks as the echos of screams, human and animal, wallowed into each other. Screams that he will never forget.


	7. Chapter 7: School is Bliss, Ignorance

Ch 7: School is Bliss, Ignorance is…

"Try walking in my shoes!" He yells at the men atop the mountain. The men respond with laughter, all but one considered the offer. He walks down to the angry fellow and tells him, "I want to walk in your shoes." The angry man notices that the fellow has no legs, but wooden sticks for feet. "I'm sure I'll stumble in your footsteps." The angry man face softens up, and the fellow invites him to the top. Here he will know the truth.

* * *

He overhears his Aunt call for him, but he's tired, beaten, and sleepy. He must pull through. _My back is killing me, agh. _Peter hasn't had a proper sleep in weeks, but he continues to push his body to the limits. He reaches for his watch, _Ah already 8 A.M. 3-hour rest…not bad._

Breakfast is laid out on the kitchen table. A perfect set of pancakes, eggs, and bacon lay atop the yellow table cover. Each morning that table cover brings a sense of warmth. As Peter sits ready to devour a weeks' worth of hunger, he wonders in thought, _money problems, house problems, car issues, and more, but the food was never missing in the Parker household. _

"Peter! I didn't hear you get up. And eating already," Aunt May says with her hands on her hips. She gives him a friendly frown. "You know it's been a while since you've had breakfast with me. I hope you're spending your time wisely, young man." She tells Peter as she places more pancakes on the dinner table.

Peter chews on a mouth full of pancakes as a knock at the door is heard. He gets up to answer, "Well, I can guarantee you I've been spending a lot of time making things better! But I did miss warm food!" He opens the door and, to his surprise, Dr. Octavius stands at the door. "Ms. Octavius?" he says as he swallows a large gulp of pancakes.

Aunt May grabs Peter by the shoulder, "Peter, who's at the door?" she turns in surprise to see Dr. Octavius at their doorstep. "Hello, umm, Ms. Octavius, what seems to bring you to our home?"

"I was hoping Peter would be on the bus heading to school…" Both Aunt May and Dr. Octavius turn to Peter.

"Well, I get rides from a friend…Lately, I do." _Wow, Peter very smooth, very, very, not smooth. _

"Do you mind if I come in Mrs. Parker?"

"No, not at all, please come in. A coffee? Or water?" Aunt May goes to the kitchen.

"Yes, please. Black would be fine for me."

"Ah, I still remember Ben would take two black cups of joe every morning. That man loved his coffee."

Peter grabs his backpack and heads towards the door, "Well, I'm off now."

Dr. Octavius quickly turns to Peter, "Peter please be careful out there, and I'll see you at school."

He smiles and waves, "Bye Aunt May, and be seeing you, Ms. Octavius."

* * *

_Why is Ms. Octavius here? I hope she doesn't think Aunt May doesn't provide or care for me. But I know aunt May can handle it. She can handle anyone, Here comes Slugger May with a batting avg. 3650, worth a world series!_

Peter finds his usual spot, a nice back alley. He changes and just like that he swings on.

* * *

Meanwhile,

Dr. Octavius drinks her coffee. Her eyes observe Parker's house noticing how everything is well organized. She smirks at the sight of a small TV placed perfectly where the sunlight won't glare it.

"Ms. Octavius."

"Yes, of course, I'm here to talk about Peter."

Aunt May nods as she sits down. She places her cup of coffee on the living room table. "Is something wrong? Did someone do something to my Peter?" her tone is soft as if her voice can't get as harden as it used to.

"No. At least not to my knowledge, but I have noticed Peter looking stressed out." She puts her cup of coffee on the table. She fixes her skirt as she prepares to question Aunt May. "Well, I've had Peter for the past two semesters. That's about a year."

Aunt May aware of where this conversation is going, she begins to fix her cardigan and show a little restraint to the tone that Dr. Octavius is giving her.

"Now I remember when the tragic…" Dr. Octavius tones soften up. She knows that the killing of Ben Parker affected Aunt May as much as it did Peter. "The death of your husband, obviously, took a toll on Peter. As I'm sure you know he is one of, if not my best student. I tend to notice when something is off." "Yes, of course."

"Lately, I've noticed Peter being distracted. Sometimes he doses off during class. He seems tired all the time. I was hoping to find out if Peter may be overworking himself here, in the household."

"My Peter does work" Aunt May nods, worried for Peter. She drinks some of her coffee. "He told me that he had acquired a job at the Bugle as a photographer. A freelancer."

"Oh, really, when was that?"

"About…" Aunt May begins to think about when he told her the news. "Ah, yes, I believe it was a 3 and a half months ago. Yes, that was when our neighbors moved out and well, we didn't particularly get along, so Peter had said that he was bringing 'extra good' news," she smiles at the thought.

Dr. Octavius smirks at the thought of Peter cracking jokes. _The Daily Bugle, huh. Good for you, Peter._ "Ms. Parker, I want to know if I can be frank with you?" she asks Aunt May.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Ms. Octavius." She smiles, not being bothered by the stern look.

"Are you providing for Peter? Can you maintain this household being a stay at home guardian? I ask because Peter seems to be overworking himself and you don't seem to notice."

"I do notice. I make his meals every day. I clean his clothes. I try to give him lunch money." Aunt May takes a deep sigh. "I love Peter. I would have agreed with you. I would have agreed that I can't support Peter, but my late husband made sure we were secured. At least for the time being."

As she gets up, "I know Peter is hurting. I have told him to stop working at the Bugle or anywhere really. But he goes and does it. Initially, I thought Peter was trying to make my life easier. I know he cares." She lets out a slight chuckle. "That boy would die just doing the right thing, and that's because he has a big heart. However, he won't say this because he's too proud." She takes a sip of her coffee. "He gets that from his Uncle, namely, he won't admit when his plate is full." Both share a small laugh. Aunt May continues, "Time, I believe that time is what's going to make Peter get back to his normal self. I hope you keep talking to Peter, but I get the sense that your talks have gone the same directions that mine have."

Dr. Octavius responds with a compassionate face. "I'm sorry for coming in so brash." She composes herself. "I do believe we can help Peter get through this. I also want to extend my hand to you, Ms. Parker, please if anything is needed give me a call." She gives Aunt May a card. "I've just seen too many cases where the household isn't a welcoming home."

"Don't worry Ms. Octavius. Believe me, my house is open to anyone. I actually help out at a homeless shelter, if you ever feel the need to help out the community you could always drop by." she tells Dr. Octavius with her charming smile.

"I will. I should actually." Dr. Octavius responds slightly embarrassed.

"I'll make sure to talk to Peter. I'm glad you noticed him. He's always had a struggle connecting with individuals, but when he does, he's the best friend you'll ever have."

Dr. Octavius nods in agreement as she receives a text:

"Ask about the case."

"Not now."

Aunt May notices Dr. Octavius frustrated look. "Everything ok? Ms. Octavius."

"Yes, it's just my partner is nagging me about something." She smiles to try to make it seem like it's nothing.

The final text, "A simple follow up will clear everything. Later lunch."

Dr. Octavius heads to the front door, but she stops herself. Her face said it all, but she must. "Before I go, I forgot to ask, and this isn't a big thing if you don't remember." She assures Aunt May.

"Ok, go for it. Shoot." Aunt May smirks.

Dr. Octavius reciprocates with a smile. "Um, do you know where Peter was on the 14th afterschool? It was about two weeks ago."

"Hmmm…Oh, yes I was showing the new neighbors around I believe. That was the 15th, but the day before I believe he was working at the Bugle. He usually goes straight to bed or grabs a snack, but he was at work. It's either the Bugle or the library, but on that day, I believe he came in too tired; I doubt anyone would tire out at the library." She laughs at the idea.

"Thank you so much for your time, Mrs. Parker."

* * *

Peter raced across town, his heart beating like a beating drum, trying to reach school on time. _It's been one hell of a morning, caught one guy trying to steal a purse. I also saved a little kid that almost got run over. Last, but not least, saved a cat being chased by a bulldozer of a dog; cute doggo though._ Peter's pure energy fuels to get to school on time.

Peter in a hurry rushes through the halls, but as he moves with quick precision, his senses turn up to 11. Everything in that moment seems slow, the hallway is long but at the midway point, there is an intersection. He can't see what's coming from the sides.

He spots the people on the second floor, the hallway is straight as an arrow and at the end of it, he spots the lady at the front desk frowning at a student inside. _Could she be in trouble? Or could he be in trouble?_

When suddenly, two individuals pass by running. Peter quickly maneuvers himself out of danger. Or so he thought. He sees a girl running away from Flash. The school bully, who has given Peter trouble in the past. "Leave her alone Flash!"

He is quick to stop, "Oh, skinny Pete got some confidence all of a sudden, huh, why don't you make me?" Flash says with a grin. He is loud. The people on the second floor are quick to bring up their phones. Peter notices, he also notices through the glass window a cop, Dewolff, standing near the exit door on the opposite side of the hall. A long hall, but his eyesight is unreal.

"You don't want to do this Flash, why start a stupid fight."

"Oh, I'm stupid now?" Flash pushes Peter.

Peter throws himself to the ground, _hey I should be an actor or something, Ms. Octavius always said I knew my Shakespeare. _He takes a deep breath and begins to gather himself. "Happy now?" he turns to Flash, annoyed and tired. "Also you know damn well I didn't call you stupid."

Flash stares at Peter with a sense of anger. Peter notices Flash's annoyance and decides to egg him on. "Unless you did think I called you stupid, well, I can't help you there now can I," he says with a snarky tone.

Flash is quick to launch a barrage of kicks, hoping to land at least one, but Peter is quick to stand up and avoid them.

"Oh, now you're running away, good ol' Pete. That's the Pete I remember." He wraps a fist, ready to punch Peter. "Always the chicken, running away from the fight. No wonder your old man bailed on ya." He throws a wild right hand. The force is strong, quick, and without hesitation.

The hit staggers Peter. _Wow, he got me. Note to self Pete—I'm still human._ The loud noises alert the police officer outside and the teachers nearby.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Yells Dewolff.

"Flash!" Dr. Octavius shouts. She comes in alongside DeWolff. "Pete! Someone get the nurse!" She shouts and looks around. She notices a couple of students on the second-floor recording with their phones. "You two!" she yells with a sense of urgency. "Yeah, you guys. I want you to come down here and give me your phones." The situation seems all but done. Still, Dr. Octavius tone makes it seem more hostile.

The commotion begins to dwell down. Meanwhile, Peter notices the police and Dr. Octavius are together. "Did something happen?" he asks, "I mean besides me getting beat up." He said with a smirk.

Gwen Stacy, who was being escorted by Dewolff, chimes in, "You're so weird." She taunts Peter, yet her face seems playful.

"Gwen, don't joke." Dr. Octavius scorns.

"It's ok, I prefer to make light of these situations," Peter says as he starts getting up. He tries his best to not look like that punch only felt like a mosquito bite.

"Flash that will cost you big time. How many times have we been over this? Are you just going to look down? Well, is your shoe communicating with you?" Dr. Octavius raises her voice, loud enough for everyone near to hear an earful. Suddenly, the small crowd begins to disappear.

As the nurse checks Peter, she notices that Peter is just fine. "You're…ok."

"Ha! I guess my joke wasn't that distasteful now was it, Dr. Octavius!" Gwen eggs on Dr. Octavius, while jokingly elbowing Dewolff.

"Hey, no, no, no." Dewolff tells Gwen, "No fraternizing with authority figures Gwen. I'm on the job." She jests.

"Riiiight," she shakes her head, "I mean we did talk for hours and hours, vented with each other. Spent days having lunch and such. You even gave me some tips on how to handle a gu—"

"Hold on! I have to cut you off there young one. You have class." Dewolff nervously says as she feels Dr. Octavius gaze behind her.

"Ah, yes. You do have class. With Peter no less, and myself." She says with a smirk as she turns to Peter. "You're going to be okay?"

"I think so. I feel good." He replies.

"In that case, why don't both of you go to class and tell your classmates that I'm going to be late."

Dewolff starts walking with Peter and Gwen in the direction of their classroom.

"Dewolff, I need to speak with you so let Gwen and Peter go on their own. I'm sure they'll be fine." Dr. Octavius tells Dewolff.

Dewolff is quick to understand the situation. "Of course, oh and no running in the hallways."

Gwen turns to her with a sly face, like having an inside joke.

As they both start walking towards their classroom Dewolff looks at Dr. Octavius and asks, "Are you sure? The kid looks very…normal."

"If he's a problem I know he won't attack in school because, well…because he hasn't." She turns to Dewolff and asks her, "Did Capt. Stacy brief you?"

"Yes, mam. Peter's story, or that of his Aunt, doesn't fit. Meaning, he is now a suspect in abiding a serial killer."

She nods. She stares at both Gwen and Peter walking the hall, both talking and laughing like normal teenagers when she suddenly got an idea.

"Gwen will play my mole…" Dr. Octavius whispered.


	8. Chapter 8: Changes

Ch 8: Changes

And so the days float through my eyes

But still, the days seem the same

And these children that you spit on

As they try to change their worlds

Are immune to your consultations

They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

\- David Bowie.

* * *

To break an awkward silence, one must speak.

"Well," Peter says befuddled. "How you holdin' up?"

"I see everyone knows…" Gwen says disappointed that the first thing asked is about her recent attack.

Dumb question Peter, I shouldn't know anything. "Everybody knows? I mean I saw you enter with a cop and Ms. Octavius, or was it Dr?" She did say Doctor didn't she, hmmm.

Gwen gives a coy look, "Nice observation skills, please don't mention that to her." She follows up by making a more aggressive and masculine voice, "She didn't want any leaks of her secret life of having a Ph.D.!" both share a laugh.

He smiles, but he tries to avoid eye contact.

"Hey, to answer your curiosity my father had me escorted to the school and Ms. Octavius was there to help out because I'm new here." She tells him in a very convincing manner. "So, my turn."

He turns to her with a puzzled look. "O…ok."

"What happen back there?" she asks without a care in the world, "I mean how is it that you're feeling fine and walking as if you got hit by a baby. I mean that jock may be a baby, but he is one big baby. I mean I notice the size of his head was as big as your whole upper body—"

"Woah, I resent that. I eat my breakfast in my afternoons and my lunch for, whenever." He chuckles while Gwen smirks at his subtle sense of humor. "I'm pretty lean I'll have you know."

"But in all honesty, you're ok?"

"You know that feeling when you just want to say everything to a person, but you know it's wrong?"

"I think I do," she says awaiting his response.

"Flash is just a bully." He looks at her confidently as he stops walking. She looks confused by the sudden halt. "I'm fine, just look at my puny face." He says as he starts walking to the door. "Here's our stop blondie."

"Blondie!? You're lucky I'm a fan of hers." She tells him. "Hey, I pegged you as a blue-eyed boy, and I think I got it right." She says, smiling.

Peter blushes at her response, yet he is quick to sit at the first desk he finds.

"Oh, it's going to be like that." She tells him with a quirky tone. He looks at her while slightly shrugging, "I guess I'll announce to the class." She coughs to get the classrooms' attention. "Ms. Octavius is going to be a good 10 mins late, maybe more…" she says as everyone stares at her. One student is overheard asking who she is, while another is heard complimenting her. "Yeah, well…that's it." She goes and sits on the first seat available.

* * *

As the class ensued, Peter couldn't help but give an occasional glance at Gwen and Gwen would return the gesture. Both seemed to have an attraction.

Dr. Octavius begins to give the class a speech.

"Okay class, before I let you guys go and do whatever you delinquents do." The class laughs at her jest. "I wanted to say how proud I am of you guys and all the hard work you boys and girls have put into learning the texts and reviews I've given you." She looks down at her feet. She then looks at all the bright young minds. She notices Peter staring at Gwen and Gwen returning the look, a slight smirk by Gwen. "Ummm, I wanted to tell you guys that I was going to take some time off."

The class questions overwhelm the room.

"Ok, ok!" she tells them to calm the ruckus down. "I could've just taken my time off and not said anything, no goodbyes for today, but I wanted to, and please starting next week you'll have a sub. So, please be respectful to whoever is the sub." She looks at her phone to check the time. "Ok, I might choose the sub, but still. Ok, go on out. I have other students to teach. Please, everyone, be careful."

Peter goes to Gwen to talk when they're interrupted by Ms. Octavius. "Gwen could you stay after class. I need to speak with you."

She turns to Peter surprised by Dr. Octavius request. "Um, Peter I was going to ask you something." She tilts her head as if truly forgetting something. "I don't know, but I want to know." She gives a light laugh.

"Yeah, me too." He grabs his backpack and headphones. "I guess I'll be seeing you, Gwen."

Gwen feels Dr. Octavius stern look.

"Bye, Peter, I hope you keep writing on that notebook I gave you."

"I am, thank again Ms. Octavius."

The class is gone, but only Dr. Octavius and Gwen are present. Dr. Octavius gathers her things and begins asking Gwen about her day.

"Besides the scuffle between Peter and Flash, how was your morning Gwen?"

"Good, I guess. I mean, I got to know Peter better. I think we have a connection" she says with a sly tone to her voice.

"Good." Dr. Octavius continues to pack her things.

"Come on, what's the deal here?" she asks.

"Gwen, I need your help." She says bluntly. She relaxes back on her chair.

Gwen surprised asks, "You want my help? With what?"

"This might sound strange, but trust me, it's the best thing we can do."

"Somehow, I suspect this isn't the best thing I can do."

"I'm going to put it to you straight." Dr. Octavius leans in. "I want you to spy on Peter."

"What!?" she says confused.

"Your fathers' suspicions may have some weight," Dr. Octavius tells her.

"And? Why me?"

"Well, I believe Peter might open up to you."

"I just met the guy," She says with a harsh tone, but her face says she cares.

"I saw you staring at him constantly today. I can tell he wants to be your friend. I believe you want to be his too."

"Ok, you caught me." She says with her hands up. "Look, I don't have many friends, and he seems like a cool guy."

"I'm not suggesting you sabotage your friendship. I want to make sure your friendship with Peter is healthy and safe." Dr. Octavius gets up from her desk.

"So, spying on him will make it better?"

"Gwen, if your father is correct on his hunch, Peter may be involved in the attack you went through." Dr. Octavius tone hardens. "That may be a tough pill to swallow, but if true, I want to be there to help. I want to help you, but I also want to help Peter."

"I just met Peter…and yeah, he seems like a cool guy," Gwen says as if to remind herself of the teen she met walking down the hall. She sits down on a desk. "But I mean this investigation, I mean that would indicate he's…well not a good guy. Right?"

"Not exactly. I can't discuss the case with you unless your father was present and even then, we would have to go to great lengths to include you." She goes to Gwen and sits next to her. "Look, I know Peter well enough to know that if he is involved…" She grabs her hand. "It's not his doing, ok." She tells Gwen to reassure her. "He might be making friends with the wrong people…that's all."

Gwen looks at Dr. Octavius, "What good can I bring though, I mean you could question him—"

"True, but I don't want to scare Peter. I believe if I question him, he would be too scared to discuss the person we are after."

"The Pale Man…"

"Correct. We believe Peter may be one loose thread of many that could lead us closer to the actual bad guys."

"Does my father know about this? About me being this undercover…person?"

"No…about that, this is all my plan. I would put Dewolff to tail you everywhere you go when you're with Peter." She stands up. "Gwen, I promise you, you won't get hurt. If my suspicions are correct, and not to toot my own horn, but my hunches tend to be right. I believe Peter isn't involved at all. I believe his actions are just that of a teenager. In other words, coincidence."

Gwen takes a few seconds to gather her thoughts. "Can I think about it?"

"Please, have your answer by the end of the day." She tells her with a cold tone. "You can tell Dewolff to contact me when you're ready to answer." She then returns to her desk as students start entering the room. "Oh, and Gwen here have this." She gives Gwen an excuse for her next class.

* * *

The feeling of betrayal persists as the day goes on. Gwen walks the halls avoiding contact with most people. She sees Peter from afar, but she walks the other way.

"What is wrong with me?" she asks herself.

She sits on the floor on the hallway. She leans back on the wall and so the day went and went till the moment of truth came.

"Officer Dewolff, can you call Dr. Octavius."

"Hi, Gwen, I hope you have your answer."

Gwen prepares to say no when a sudden feeling comes over her. "Yes." She said with a sense of knowing the choice is the right one.

"Yes, you have your answer or—"

"Yes, as in I'm in." She relaxes in her choice. "I just want to make sure this is handled right, I know I'm just a Highschool kid, but I want to help."

"I knew you would see the goodness this could bring. Thank you so much, Gwen. I will be seeing you later today then. Till then."

Gwen sits on the backseat of Dewolffs car. She lays down hearing her music. The one thing that makes her calm down and assures her feelings are true.

People stared at the makeup on his face  
Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace  
The boy in the bright blue jeans  
Jumped up on the stage  
And lady stardust sang his songs  
Of darkness and disgrace

And he was alright, the band was altogether  
Yes he was alright, the song went on forever  
And he was awful nice  
Really quite out of sight


	9. Chapter 9: Vampire of Yesteryear

Ch 9: Diary: The Vampire of Yesteryear ****Maggot Brain Song by Funkadelic**

**Entry I: 1845, New York, Somewhere in the slums.**

"The many men, so beautiful! / And they all dead did lie: / And a thousand thousand slimy things / Lived on; and so did I," the old man read loudly, and there I was sitting at the front enamored by the words and tales of great wordsmiths. Every day a new storyteller would go up on stage and see how the crowd would react. Sometimes the crowd would get angry; snort out the fumes if you will. Sometimes, the crowd would be equally enthralled by the words as I was. Each night the stage was given to those who enjoyed the arts.

But,

It is on this day that I met the woman. She was one of many in the audience, but she stood there alone in presence. Many jeered at the poet, but none would make her escape my vision. She possessed hair as radiant as the moonlight, and her eyes filled with wonder. I thought to myself, "is she as marveled by the words of the great poet as I?" perhaps I was too foolish a man to believe this nature like figure could be my one…my muse.

**Entry II: 1985, New York, Somewhere in the slums**

Today, I believe, is the 1st of September and I have visited many a doctor, but none have found the reason for my illness. My mind lingers on the poetic nature of my skin burning with the touch of sunlight. I was with that angelic woman some time ago, although I feel her memory a fog as if she is fighting me back. Should I blame her? I have started to feel weak since then, oh how I've lost track of time. Her majestic presence is what I remember, but not much else. Ugh, I can't seem to taste the food I gather, nor the ones I'm forced to steal. I am at a loss for words.

Still, I will not miss the poets gathering. I'm sure that will pick me up.

**Entry III: 1845, New York, sometime later.**

Today marks the 2nd month I've yet tasted food or drink. I resemble that of the undead, but I live. I have visited the house of God but to no avail. I can only believe the Devil is within me, and he is cruel to the bone.

Even my friends don't seem to recognize me, one of their faces struck me so deeply I felt shame. "Who are you? What are you?" he said, as the rest of them began to tell me to leave. It wasn't until the questioner noticed a necklace I wore. A crucifix carved from a lonely rock I found when I got to America. As everyone ignored me and walked past me, he stood frightened. His face is apologetic for his rash behavior.

He picked me up and sat me on the side of the road. I hadn't had a talk in weeks, besides doctors telling me I was a lost cause. I could tell his eyes were frighten by my exterior. I wanted to show that it was still me underneath this corpses' body, but I felt too much comfort, due to the companionship he offered, that I worried I would soil the moment if I truly spoke my mind. I wanted to cry, but there were no tears left to cry. I wanted to scream, but there were no screams left in my body. So, I stared almost blankly into his face. My eyes began to notice things they had yet noticed before. His neck thrusting out, his lips bright, and his arms in good shape. It wasn't in till he said something about a Witch Doctor.

"a Witch Doctor?" I said.

My attention was then put forth towards the Witch Doctor. What is such a thing? Am I not part of God's plan? Why have you failed me O' Lord? Your churches do nothing for me, simply pushing me to the dirt.

**Entry IV: 1845, New York, The Witch Doctor**

I visited the last doctor, but this is no ordinary doctor. So, I ventured into the great beyond.

Wallowing in my self-pity, I end up on the fringes of the city. Illusions appear, I don't know if they are real, but they follow. They seem like homeless, covered in smudge, coal workers perhaps. At first, I found it unusual that I attract the downtrodden, yet, I continue to meander the ashy streets. I check the alleyways, long and short, but they're empty and darken. The alleyways stunk of shit and animal carcasses, but alas this Witch Doctor is no ordinary doctor. No, he lies in the streets and backdrops of the lonely, of the forgotten peoples

The idea of being led astray was not far behind, but I couldn't stop now. I kept moving through the foggy maze, or so it seemed to me, the city was all but confusing. It got to the point that I began to hear voices, calling to me, and figments of my imagination allured me in reality. The walls and buildings surrounding me began to shrink, and others grew abnormally large. Smoke and loud sounds began to engulf me. Those who followed me were swallowed by the shadows that crypt behind us. Echoes of lost souls pondered through me. I was afraid I shared the same fate as those lost souls, in till, a terrifying sound startled me**. The piercing sound galloped throughout the darkness as if being controlled by a greater being.

I finally saw a black man standing alone in an empty room. He wore unusual attire and held a wooden object. As I got closer, I noticed the object he held created the clouding sounds. The sounds began to make sense to me. It began to speak to me, move me. It was at that moment that the sounds manifested in the radiant woman that had caused me so much pain and sorrow. She was scantily dressed, but I did not mind it; rather, it intrigued me. My instincts were to ravish her, and so I did.

My ailing body was healing itself, as my bones were beginning to get strong. My mind was beginning to remember fruitless details. I was gaining my whole existence back.

Confronted by a man with no eyes and tongue, he speaks to me. He speaks to me with his mind. I am one with him. The room in its entirety is darkened hues of blues, purples, and reds; velvet chairs, pristine wooden furniture, and paintings that I could not make out. The violent and passionate sounds slowly wonder elsewhere.

In that moment of silence, his words echoed throughout my brain, "Sleep when you wake you will know the truth."

A dead woman lies before me. Her body dried up. What have I done? As the question lingered over me, I felt a sense of life drawing over me. My body was full again. I see my surroundings and notice that I'm in an abandoned house. Suddenly, the black man who created such loud sounds entered the room. Dressed in rags, he looked at me like a human being. He grabbed me by my shoulders and told me his name. Cassius, he said. The doctor I was so eager to meet. I look at him in joy, but what of this woman. It's a strange feeling when you feel happiness, but what alludes you could mean madness.

He sat down on a chair and told me, "You still need to be fully awakened." I wondered who he truly was, but I didn't ask questions. I sat next to this pale woman, her hair white as clouds on a sunny day, oh, how I miss the warmth. Her body seemed so thin like mine. It wasn't in till I gazed at her that I knew I wasn't dreaming. That my cheekbones were fat, my arms were muscular. I was me again.

"So, the dream was real?" I asked Clay. He smiled. I suddenly felt a need to rest, and so I did.

I awoke to Cassius speaking with a woman. I turn to see my arms and body, and I'm fine. I get up, and both welcome me. I can't seem to fathom what has happened, but "I must go on," I tell myself.

The woman begins to explain to me how I have ascended into Godhood. She tells it to me so convincingly that I begin to ponder such thoughts. Cassius suddenly disappears, but before he parted, he tells me to understand the meaning of what I have given up. "But what have I given up? What is this Godhood?" The woman grabs my arm and pulls me towards her. She sets me down on the wooden floor. She begins to bite my neck and kiss me. She slowly touches my body and begins to whisper odd things into my ear.

"what have I given up?" "What is this Godhood?" goes through my mind.

As she finishes making me feel lust, she pours some blood on my mouth. The red drink fulfills an orgasmic thrill. A thirst fulfilled that truly open my eyes, my mind. I hear Cassius playing of what I now understood as music**. Music not of this time. Foreign to my ears. Cathartic all the same.

I enjoy the warmth of her mouth and the blood smother on my face. I turn to the ceiling and see Christ's face in the wood of the ceiling. Strange, unsettling. Pleasure persists. Confusion is unsettling, but I can't stop.

"I beg of thee, Lord. Grant me an answer as I wish to feel your warm embrace."

**Entry XLV: 1989, Texas, A Bar**

I had given my soul…for the curse of having to fulfill my thirst for life. Oh, what a fool I was.

Bikers and cowboys enjoy their usual thrills. This bar reeks of alcohol and smoke. I must admit I do quite enjoy the enthusiasm the people in this southern border town bring. Even the meanest looking bunch have time for dancing.

The bartender notices me as an "unusual fella" around these parts, but I make idle talk. I was waiting for Andrea to arrive. She was ready to play here, but I quite enjoyed these fine Texas folks. I was not ready to have them killed. In reality, though, I wanted Andrea in my life. Still, I couldn't help but marvel at the people in this bar.

The music plays loud enough to have them dancing nonstop. I turn around to see these people enjoy themselves. One couple danced so fast the others began to marvel at how their dancing was in unison. Their talent will surely attract Andrea first. She looks for trophies if you will, and I knew they were the ones.

As the hours go by so do some of the cowboys and bikers. The bar is nearly empty, the bartender and a few others remain. I can't say for certain, but I believe it was 12 individuals in total, that included the couple. Perhaps, God chose us to decide their fates.

She finally arrived a quarter past 2 A.M. She captures the eyes of the few left in the place. One would easily question her motives here, but her beauty makes men and women blind to such obvious observations. She is dressed in a white dress, only illuminating her pale skin and matching her white hair.

She grabs my arms and begins to dance with me. I still remember the song that played. It was almost as if I was being made fun of, yet I quite enjoyed the music. "Why are you here?" she asked, but my mind wandered in thought. She threw me to the closest chair she could find as she quickly moved on with another fellow. The men look anxious, ready to have their turn. The women meanwhile seemed very oblivious to what was happening.

Andrea slow danced with each man in the bar in till each was unconscious. I finally gain back my awareness and quickly stepped in before she moved on to the women. "Not tonight, not this night. And not in this town."

She looked at me with those piercing eyes, and at that moment, I knew she was ready to thirst. "Get out, all of you!" I yelled at those conscious. They scrammed like children. The bartender looked scared, but he still tried to stand his ground, too much of a fool I'm afraid.

He pulled out a shotgun and shot Andrea and me on the chest. Nothing but a push. I could not protect him as she launched herself towards him and began feasting on him. Cutting his throat with her hand. His blood gushed all over.

A strange feeling persists. I noticed the young woman, who was dancing earlier, was still here. I turned to her as if to tell her to leave, but it was in that moment I saw her companion was on the floor unconscious. I knew then that Andrea was going to have her fill.

Andrea turns to me with blood smothered all over her mouth and dress. Her eyes look like a lion needing one more bite to be filled up. I stepped in, only to be ridiculed by laughter. I knew I could hold her off if push came to shove. It was going to be a long battle, but I believe she knew that. Plus, she had eaten a good meal.

To my surprise she let them all go.

She once again asked me, "Why are you here?"

"I need a new coffin," I replied.

Of course, she always knew my sense of humor. Our discussion lingered on pleasantries, but my real issue was elsewhere. I needed help, but I couldn't remember why. It hit me when a song began to play on the radio. My mind was betraying me, so, I wrote to feel, I wrote to remember, but most of all, I wrote to remind myself of me.

I told her my problem, but she only smiled.

"Oh Morbius," she said, as she began to dance. The blood covering her only gave her a glow no light could provide. The song, a melancholic country song, only painted a dreamlike picture of a bloody scene.

She grabs my hand while dancing. "Go see Cassius, he should be in New Orleans," she says. "Now finish this song with me," she says with a smile.

(I heard they pretend

The world didn't end

Right when I knew you were gone

I guess life still goes on

Beyond that blue neon)

The last thing I remember is her flying off with the moonlight shaping her into a nice silhouette.

**Entry XLVI: 1989, New Orleans, some days later.**

I arrive to find Cassius feeding on a large reptilian and other animals. Not quite sure what those are, but I know it's not for me. Still, I seek his help.

His home is quite regal. He has done well for himself.

I got right to the point, but like so many of us, Cassius wants to reminisce. We talk about life and the places it has taken us. It's only right to reminisce since I hadn't talked to Cassius in quite some time. But I need his help.

Time as I know it seems to be slipping away from, becoming all but a spec in the grand scheme of things. Oh, how I wish to remember the details like Cassius does.

Finally, I told him of my dilemma, which he was quick to offer a helping hand. For a while, I didn't believe I had friends, but I must've forgotten how good Cassius has been to me. It's a scary thought, thinking that one might be alone in the world. An even scarier thought is what if I forget about myself, then what? Is anyone real at that point?

"Ahh, yes. You're ascending to Godhood Morbius. Be proud. An honor like that doesn't come to just anyone." He told me.

Godhood, what does it all mean!?

"We who have been blessed by The Elder One to join him are mere puppets, to be wielded by him when need be. You, Morbius, are becoming an Elder One of your own. A true vampire."

I'm losing my mind and memories to become a Vampire, what a crock of shit. I left New Orleans with no real answer. Cassius and Andrea made me this, yet they don't know why this is happening to me. Well, at least Andrea was straight with me, but this bullshit of a "true vampire," is frustrating.

The past is becoming a blur, I must continue to try and find an answer. At points, I can't seem to remember what I did the day before, and in other sections of my life, I remember what type of blood I drank. I know doctors can't help me, but who can!

A "true vampire," Cassius, he always had a way with words.

I'm afraid that Andrea's beauty might blur out in the fog that is consuming my mind. Or that Clay's wisdom, cryptic as it may be, will be gone. I'm afraid that I may be losing my mind. My identity. I'm afraid the world might truly end for me, or perhaps it's as the song went, 'I heard they pretend, the world didn't end, right when I knew you were gone, I guess life still goes on, Beyond that blue neon…'

As Peter puts down Morbius book he hears Aunt May call to him. He sees the time on his watch and realizes it's 8 A.M. _Oh wow, I'm going to be late again. Damn. _"I'm coming, Aunt May!"

_I defiantly need to finish reading Morbius books, if this is real, if I can honestly trust him, then I'm dealing with a real vampire. _Peter gets his things ready for school. _I'm going to need to put some extra time reading these books. Some of the things he wrote don't make a lick of sense, but then again, he seems to be forgetting things, perhaps he's can't gather his thoughts correctly., Alzheimer's? I don't know. I might have to find someone who can help me decipher some of these pages._

And so, Peter went determined to find a way to help Morbius.

Meanwhile, the Vampire waits patiently in the graveyard. He waits and waits, in awe that a man is willing to sacrifice everything to help him.

_Spider-Man, perhaps God has sent you to me…or perhaps he sent me to you? _He lays down, holding his thirst at bay.


	10. Chapter 10: Unexpected Gwen

Ch 10: Unexpected Gwen.

She rode her bike as carefree as a bird flying in the springtime. The sun flickers on her eye, but the morning sunlight was always a delight to Gwen. She wore jeans and a loose t-shirt, a couple of sizes bigger than her. She passes several pastry places and food joints until she stops to wonder if the address Dr. Octavius gave her was the correct address.

"Where the hell is Peter's house?" she scratches her hair.

She looks around for people to ask for help, but no one seems to be awake. _It is early, but come on._ She ventures forth as fast as she can. She's going so fast she begins to lose herself in the breeze until she almost crashes into a yellow, beat-up, car slowly coming out of a driveway. The car's brakes create a large screeching sound.

"Oh my!" the driver yells in freight. She gets out of the car to check Gwen. "Are you ok? Do I need to call an ambulance?"

Gwen smiles at the old lady's reaction. She's taking long breaths trying to compose herself. "No." She gives out a small laugh, but she's out of breath. She looks around because she is dazed. Suddenly she notices the house the car was getting out is Peter's. She smiles as if by fate she got here and almost ended faceplanted in front of Peter's walkway.

"Um," She gives out a small laugh but composes herself quickly. "Are you Peter's mom? Does Peter Parker live here?"

"I'm not his mom, and Peter does live here. Were you looking for him?"

"Yes! Yes, I was looking for him."

"It's prettyearly," she smiles. "Let me just park the car."

They enter the house.

"I believe I didn't get your name?" she says as she lets Gwen enter the house.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Where are my manners, my name is Gwen, Gwen Stacy."

"Is your father George Stacy, by any chance?"

She answers, "Yes, he is." With an half-embarrassed smile.

"He's a good man. I met your father some time ago and he," she pauses for a bit, "he did right by us. Peter and me."

"Oh, you guys have met my dad?"

"Well, I have I don't believe Peter did meet him, but as I said, he did right by us." She goes into the kitchen.

Gwen stands at the front entrance looking around. She is surprised by how neat everything is set up. She notices the small hallway leading to what she figured is Aunt Mays room. Next to it must be Peters. The kitchen is next to the hallway, but enough room to feel a sense of separation. She is quick to notice the vinyl collection they have, but as soon as she gets close to see them, Aunt may ask her something.

"There is some breakfast I made for Peter if you're interested? Plenty left for a full plate."

"Um, no I'm ok Ms. Parker."

"You sure? They're blueberry pancakes, a special recipe, with some bacon, egg, and orange juice. You'll be feeling good and special after eating them." She says with that sweet tone of hers.

Both share a laugh.

"When you put it that way I think I'll have some."

Aunt May puts a plate full of breakfast on the kitchen table, and Gwen's eyes marvel at the delicious sight.

Meanwhile, she goes and checks on Peter, but he is showering.

"Well, Peter is showering at the moment. I guess that'll give us some time to get to know each other."

"These pancakes are delicious," Gwen says with a serious tone. "Wow, I don't think I've had home food in a long time." She says with a face consumed by the flavors and textures of these pancakes.

"Not to toot my own horn, but these pancakes usually get that kind of response." She says as she smiles. "Now, how you meet my Peter?" she asks.

"Funny story actually," Gwen says as she gulps some orange juice. "He was supposed to be my tour guide when I first got to Mid Town High, but he left me alone in school." She smiles at the memory.

"He did what?" Aunt May surprised by Peter's actions.

"Oh, it's no big deal." She gulps a bite down. "We got along a lot better a week ago when we walked to class together." She takes another bite of those delicious pancakes.

"I'm surprised Peter would do that to such a lovely girl." She says making Gwen blush slightly. "Still, I'm glad he's making friends."

"Yes, he's a good guy."

"How's your father doing Gwen?"

"My dad? Well, he's out there working." She says hoping to stop Aunt May from probing too much.

"And how about you, any aspirations to join a school club or work a summer job?" she pours herself some coffee.

"I don't know. I would love to join something having to do with music or a book club."

"Ah, a music and literature fan, is there something in particular that interest you in those subjects?"

"I have to admit that I haven't read many books, but my favorite novel I've read is Neuromancer by Gibson."

"Yes, I enjoyed that one, quite the trip." She says making Gwen give out a small smirk.

"Yes, yes it is," she said, "but music, I love music."

"Oh yes, any particular artist?"

"For me, it's a moment kind of thing, you know?"

"Oh, moods." She responds.

"Exactly!"

Aunt May grabs the dishes and puts them in the sink. She tells Gwen that she's going to check on Peter.

"Peter, are you almost finished in there?" she asks him with a slightly higher pitch.

Peter hears Aunt May and hurries up. "Uh, yeah, I'm almost done May!"_ Oh man, I hope nothing is wrong. Last time she hurried me she had terrible news._

"Well, Peter is almost out."

"Um, about the music."

Aunt May leans on the fridge.

"Roxy Musics, Siren. My mom gave me a vinyl of that album, and I guess, it's more of a memory of her."

"I'm sorry—"

"Oh, she's not dead. She's just gone, you know."

Aunt May gets closer to the kitchen table.

"I'm still sorry." She goes and grabs an album from her vinyl collection. "I know that feeling of having a connecting with something due to a loved one or when a person you long for is gone. Like this record." She places Al Green's Let's Stay Together on the kitchen table. "My late husband loved this album, and the first time I saw him, kissed him, and well, fell in love with him a song from that album was playing." She smiles, remembering.

"I guess we're both sorry, right?" she says with a slight chuckle.

"I think you might be right, but I believe I may have gone a little ahead of myself," she says, thinking she might've overshared. "Still, I'm glad we had this talk."

Peter walks in on their conversation. "Gwen?!"

"Hi, I met your Aunt." She says, slightly laughing. She slightly scratches her head trying to play it cool. "I was wondering if we could go to school together?" she asks as her voice sounds shaky.

Peter turns to Aunt May confused, meanwhile, Aunt May looks at Gwen with a warm smile.

"Um, sure." _Now what Peter, you got your costume inside your backpack and Gwen is here. _

"Peter, can you meet me in your room?" Aunt May asks, wanting a word with Peter.

"Uh, yeah."

Gwen tries to overhear them but to no avail. Instead, she goes and looks at the vinyl collection.

* * *

"Peter, she's excellent. She's a good honest girl."

"She's honest? But you've just met her," he says as he laughs. "Look, I like her, but I don't know if I'm ready to have friends over like this. I'm not used to it."

"It's normal, plus she's very pretty."

"May!" he says, embarrassed by the suggestion. "I don't see her that way. Besides, I don't think she sees me that way either."

"She came on her bike from god knows where. Pete, she likes you." She smiles and grabs Peter by the shoulders. "I was never good at the. 'talk,' like Ben was, but I'm here for you, ok."

"God, no!" he says, his face getting redder by the second. "I don't need the talk!" he says as he opens the door.

"I know, I'm just sayin'"

They walk towards the living room.

"To think I was going to set you up with our neighbor—"

"Oh, the redhead? She's way out of my league."

"Hate to break it to you Peter, but the girl standing over there staring at the vinyl, she's quite the catch."

"Oh, she's out of my league to I suppose—"

"No, that means you're in their league honey."

* * *

Aunt May goes up to Gwen.

"You like some of the records?"

"Honestly, I haven't heard any of these. I'm just curious about the album you showed me earlier—"

"The Al Green one." She goes to the kitchen and grabs it. She pauses to see the album.

"Yeah, I just, I don't know," Gwen says, reacting to feeling.

"You want to hear it? I guess vinyl sound can make a difference." She smirks at Gwen. "Do you have a vinyl player?"  
"Yes, I do."

"Promise me this. Take care of it." She says, knowing that Gwen might need all the music in the world at her age.

Gwen's face looks surprised. Her eyes glimmer in curiosity and happiness towards the album.

"Are you sure? I know what this album means to you."

"I am. Take it."

"I promise I won't break it or scratch it. I'll bring it back."

"Here take this one too. It's one of my favorites." Aunt May hands her an Otis Redding album.

"Thank you! You have no idea what this means to me." She says, then she looks to Aunt May. "Actually, you do know what this means to me." She corrects herself. She looks at Peter, "I love music." She smiles.

* * *

As they exit, they say their goodbyes for the day.

"I hope it's not too weird I came over?" she asks Peter.

"It's kind of weird, but nowadays I like that kind of weird." Both share a small laugh.

"I rode my bike here, but we can walk to school if you want? Or we can totally ride my bike together," she says with a humorous tone.

He laughs at the idea. "I think I prefer walking."

"Cool." She notices a motorcycle at the side of Peter's house.

"Oh, that thing doesn't work, but I've been fixing it. Trying to find the right parts." He says. "Maybe, I'll give you a lift one of these days."

"Ah, by the way, I was being serious about the bike ride." She smiles.

And so Peter and Gwen walk to school.


	11. Chapter 11: Who is Peter Parker? Part I

Ch 11: Who is Peter Parker? Part I

She sees Dewolff making a sandwich with all the works. The kitchen is clean and big. A nice ebony color to the countertop. Tons of silverware, enough to cook any meal you want. The fridge is as large as one could imagine. She turns to see the living room and it's as big as you expect. The TV set is placed on the wall and with it a surround sound. Books were placed on the side with a nice set up to read them. She kept going back to the sound system, she was ready to play some music, but she stopped herself. It all felt very personal. She was envious at all the things Dr. Octavius had in her home.

"Can you imagine living in a house like this?" Gwen asks Dewolff.

"No, not really." She continues to make herself a sandwich. "You sure you don't want one? I'm making my specialty?"

Gwen smirks at the suggestion. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks." She goes and sits at the kitchen table. "How much do you have to make to live in a house like this? I mean nice wooden floors, two-story house, amazing kitchen," Dewolff pretends to be tilting a hat. "I'm serious, this kitchen is amazing. It's bigger than my whole house."

"I've been to your house, and it's quite cozy."

"Yeah but it's got nothing against this." She marvels at the amount of room left to walk and run. "I mean I would be blasting my music full volume and just dancing like crazy. Or singing like crazy, I bet no can hear you outside."

"I do know that Dr. Octavius probably can afford this house due to her books. She sold quite a lot." She says in admiration. "Tada! My sandwich is done."

"It does look quite good…" Gwen looks at the sandwich and then her eyes turn to Dewolff.

"Fine, I'll make you one."

Gwen sits there eyeing her sandwich, while Dewfolff stands eating hers at the countertop.

"So how was your first day with Peter?"

"Awesome." She says as she bites down on her sandwich. "It was awkward at first, but I made it work."

Dewolff bites down on her sandwich. "Awesome how? Got info, or friendly awesome?"

Gwen turns to Dewolff, "Could you pass me the juice that's in the fridge," and so she does. "Is it bad if I say friendly awesome?"

"No." Dewolff pours some juice for herself before passing it to Gwen. She drinks to water down the sandwich. "I mean for a second there I felt I wasn't needed." She says in regards to tailing them as they walked to school.

"I know it's only been one day, but I can't see him as being part of the bad guys."

Dewolff nods, "See, that tends to be the case for a lot of individuals who are being manipulated by dangerous people."

"I wasn't manipulated—"

"Oh, no, no. I meant Peter." She drinks from her glass. "He's probably innocent from what I've seen or from what Dr. Octavius has shared. It's just the crimes associated with Peter are heavy crimes. He might just be playing us all."

Gwen stares at the table lost in thought.

"Hey, cheer up. Peter is just a thread, ok. I'm sure this lead is not our smoking gun. Meaning, he's probably not involved." She goes to sit at the table. "Stuck in the middle is you, though."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you were a victim of an attack not too long ago. Now you're helping us get closer to the criminal responsible for that attack. All the while taking it like a champ."

Gwen smirks, "So what?"

"Gwen, how are you?" Dewolff asks with a worried face.

"Honestly?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

"I don't know." She says, with a fixed expression. "I remember feeling like nothing happened the day after the attack. The week after I went to the police station to get questioned again, and I felt more scared about the questions than the…actual thought of the attack."

Dewolff stands up and grabs some more juice for both of them.

"Thanks," she takes a sip of the juice. "So, the question, 'how am I?' I don't know if I can answer that with a real answer." Says an unblinking Gwen. "I can tell you I feel bad for someone who might be involved in my attack. I feel that black is white and white is black. I guess I feel confused about my own feelings."

"Would it help if I said it's normal to feel this way?" she responds, followed by a small smirk.

"Yes and no."

Dewolff makes a curious face as she gets up to eat her sandwich left at the countertop.

"Yes, as in I know there are others who have gone through this. Have felt what I've felt, but no because I'm not special." She laughs.

Dewolff smiles in response to Gwen's pessimistic humor. As she stands near the countertop eating, she notices the front door open.

* * *

Dr. Octavius enters with some take out and some bags.

Both Gwen and Dewolff stare blankly.

"A little help?" She asks.

Both move quickly, "Yes, um, I mean yeah!" both say simultaneously. Both stare at each other with a shared smile.

"I spoke to your dad. He said you could stay over and I'm here to tell you can stay here for as long as you want." Dr. Octavius tells Gwen with a warm smile.

Gwen smiles, "Yeah, that works." She grabs the take out and places it on the kitchen table.

"There are more boxes left in the car." Dr. Octavius says as she goes and fixes the takeout on the table.

All three sit at the kitchen table, but only Dr. Octavius has a plate full of Chinese food. "No one's going to eat? I figured y'all like Chinese…or at least I thought." She asks with a sense of trying to gauge everyone.

"We ate," Dewolff says.

"Your sandwiches do carry a punch, but I'll have some Chinese to make me feel bloated," Gwen smirks as she grabs some of the food.

"Oh and Gwen, I brought your albums with me. Don't worry, I placed them in a very safe box and made sure to drive slowly to the house." Dr. Octavius said, in a sincere manner.

"Thank you."

Dr. Octavius gives her a warm smile, but she feels that feeling of work creeping over her.

"Pop quiz."

Dewolff and Gwen look curious to know what exactly she means.

"Who is Peter Parker?"

"Really?! But Chinese food!" Gwen says as she gives her a jokingly annoyed face.

"They're not mutually exclusive, you know." She wraps some noodles onto a fork and eats them. "See."

"Fine." Gwen also eats some noodles. "Who is Peter Parker…" she thinks to herself. "Well, let me tell you how my day went. Hopefully, I can paint a picture."

Gwen relaxes, preparing to tell them her day as detailed as she can recall.

"After the awkwardness of trying to find Peter's house and finally finding his house, we went on walking to school."

"Ok, that was quick," Dewolf says. "So much for the juicy details." She laughs.

"Well, that's not really important," Gwen responds as she blushes. "It was awkward ok."

"Go on," Dr. Octavius turns to Dewolff with a smirk.

"Ok, so we decided to walk to school,"

* * *

As they walked, the sunlight provided the perfect amount of light to bring out the morning breeze. The buildings would provide the occasional shade. For Gwen and Peter, it was a perfect day to walk and get to know each other. He mostly kept looking down, forward, and other angles to avoid eye contact. She would look for eye contact as she prefers to be upfront in discussions.

"How's Midtown High suiting you?" Peter asks, hoping to break the ice.

"Depends, since I moved schools I don't think my life has been a shining example of awesome, but Midtown ain't that bad."

Peter's features seemed to be more apparent to Gwen's eyes. His blue eyes shined like a charm, and his awkward smile had its attractions.

"I will say that my very first experience with Midtown was funny."

"Oh really," Peter curious to hear the experience.

"It involved a tour guide fleeing the tour leading to this lonely girl feeling more lonely." She smiles.

Peter gives a slight chuckle as he slightly speeds up to stand in front of Gwen.

"I'm sorry about that." He proclaims. "I'm serious." His smile disappears as if to reassure her of his honesty.

"I was kinda joking, but I like that you just did this." She bops her head to signal a joke is incoming. "I'm serious." She imitates Peter.

He smiles as he suggests a detour of their route to school. He crosses the street in a quick maneuver.

"Hey! Wait!" Gwen hurries behind him. "You know this street is pretty big to just jaywalk like that."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Why the detour?" Gwen asks worried if this has something to do with the case.

"Around the corner, there is a nice vendor. I like to get snacks, plus I'm thirsty."

_Jesus, this spying thing will be nerve-racking if he does weird stuff like this. All for snacks, huh Peter. Talk about worrying about nothing. _

Both walk the pavement towards the other side as Gwen notices Peter seeming worried. He kept turning back to see something, but she notices nothing.

"Everything ok?" she asks.

"You know that weird feeling you get when something out of the blue happens? Well, I just got that feeling."

"The ones that leave you uneasy." She says.

"Exactly."

She looks at him as if to understand him.

"Any particular reason you got that feeling?" she curiously asks.

"I don't know." He looks confused. "Maybe, I just need my snacks." He smirks.

"I sure do," she smiles. "Oh, and those pancakes your Aunt made were fantastic."

"Yes, they are. And we are here, but there is a line." He sighs. "Could you hold our place for a bit. I'm just going to make a quick call."

"a quick call?"

"Yes." He moves towards the alleyway nearby. "Order me anything. I promise I won't take long."

And just like he promised, he didn't take long. A mere 2 minutes.

"So, what are we—"

"I got us some chips and a dip, plus I love me some Iron Dew."

"Iron Dew…" he says dismissively.

"Iron Man, you know, the iron guy who flies." She smiles as she drinks. She begins to sing a song, "Tony Stark makes you feel/He's a cool exec with a heart o' steel/As Iron Man, all jets ablaze—"

"No! Stop!" both share a laugh.

"Someone's not a fan. What gives?" she asks, genuinely interested.

"Call it a professional rivalry." He smiles. "Nah, I just feel he's going about the hero thing the wrong way. But that's a long and convoluted conversation." He drinks the Iron Dew.

Both continue to walk when they finally can see the school.

"Ah, you dreaded beast we found you." She says.

"Time to slay thy beast? Is that ok?" he asks awkwardly.

"That's good enough."

But before they would enter the belly of the beast Gwen needed to know something.

"Hey, you know I love music." She says.

"I kinda figured." He says looking at her backpack with the two vinyl Aunt May gave her.

"You don't mind right?" she asks.

"No, not at all. I mean, Aunt May trusts you with these sacred, precious items." He says with a deadpan face.

"Peter!" she laughs nervously.

"Of course I don't mind." He says as he laughs. "I was always the movie guy at the house, so—"

"A MOVIEGOER!" Gwen yells.

Dr. Octavius and Dewolff move back startled by Gwen's sudden yell.

Both start laughing.

"It's not funny." She blushes. "I'm serious."

To be continued.


	12. Chapter 12: Part II Two Cases,One Mouse

*Warning* I included what some may find to be flirtatious moments between other female characters with Peter. Just an FYI for you Gwen shippers before starting (Although it's safe to say she is still the main focus, for now). Peace and I hope you guys enjoy.

Ch 12: Who is Peter Parker? Part II/ Two Cases, One Mouse.

He grabs his journal. He writes elegantly as if nothing is pending.

_Fate, _

_Where are we going I ask, do I matter in this world? I have shown the world my best side and my worst, does this world accept me for what I am? If not, I ask what about the choice? _

_Am I destined to kill? _

_Destiny, _

_Where are we going I ask, does this world care for me? Should I care for it? I want to know if I choose the road less traveled, will I know?_

_Choice,_

_Am I destined to linger as a puppet? Is my fate set to follow a dotted path? If I close my eyes do I not see? Or do the things in front of me disappear? _

_Fate, destiny, choice._

_Am I not a man?_

* * *

George Stacy wakes up every morning and he showers and shaves his stubble. He drinks his cup of coffee. Although he was never good at making coffee, he needs his jolt. He sits by the bedside and gives his morning prayer with a portrait of his family (Gwen, his wife, his mother, and himself). It has become his routine.

He goes to work and goes through the usual cases. No case is simple. Or at least he tries to tackle each one with that train of thought. He sits on his desk with the case file he dreads to go over: The Dawn Murders. He places a recorder on the desk and begins to set up for a long conversation.

"The Year 1988, the bodies were drained from their blood. A total of nine murders. Five women and four men were drained of their blood. The first two victims had their arms and legs severed. They were drained too. He kept changing styles every two murders. On all the victims he branded them with their blood type."

_Now, who would know their blood type? I keep falling for the same setup. Maria and I have gone over the doctor route. We ruled out the—_

"Doctors at that time." He relaxes on his chair. " We ruled out the doctors at that time. We don't have any major lead on who the Dawn Killer is, or if he's working alone or partnered with someone else. One connection, albeit slim, is the connection with Peter Parker. A kid, a high school boy who acted out of the ordinary with my daughter. She was then attacked by what we have concluded to be a copy cat killer of the Dawn Killer." He runs his hand through his hair. He thinks about his words.

"Parker's story is not consistent, for example, his Aunt told Dr. Octavius that Peter worked at the Daily Bugle, false. He has been acting out of character according to my colleague Dr. Octavius. Am I clinging on to a false lead? It's slim, but slim is all we currently have."

He gets up and grabs a water bottle from his refrigerator. He continues to talk out loud.

"There are a series of crimes lately that Dr. Octavius and Dewolff believe to be connected to the Dawn killings." He drinks from the bottle. "About two brutal deaths occurred in the past month. I do believe the same killer killed both victims, but I'm not so sure it was the Dawn Killer."

He stands near the desk, "The crimes they believe to be connected to the Dawn killings are quite different. These killings are not expertly done. One of the victims had his head blown off, and the other victim had his chest blown off. Both also appeared to be dead before being blown up."

He ponders on the amount of force taken to achieve such violence.

"The diner's owner and his daughter weren't any help, even though they witnessed a suppose brawl that led to the chest explosion…but the body was dead before the explosion. That one is a head-scratcher. Perhaps he changed styles? A copy-cat that isn't as good, perhaps?" _That's something to think about, serial killers being ranked at how good they are at what they do. Jesus. _"He struck at the clinic with one kill. That murder involved the draining of the blood and some splatter. Still, no connection with the extreme style of the explosion murders."

He sits on his desk. "One thing that was noted was a mysterious figure. One witness who was thrown by the individual described the man with slick hair and a 'cool long jacket,' but nothing to point where this guy went, or details of his face." He drinks from the bottle. "Besides both cases having a mystery man and unique murders, I can't find any more connections."

He thinks about his job and in these cases.

"Two cases, both have missing parts that may or may not fit together. Both get us closer to a killer. That's all there is to it, I collect evidence, and hopefully, I get it right. Ain't that what life is about."

_Stories we experience eventually connecting to make us, us…_

* * *

Dr. Octavius waves goodbye to Dewolff as she escorts Gwen to school. She smiles at them with a feeling of warmth. Gwen has stayed over her house for the past month and a half. For that span, she has been getting notes on Peter Parker which have birthed some interesting theories. Some have led her to question who Peter truly is.

Dr. Octavius has held this from Captain Stacy. She knows how he will react, although she believes Gwen is safe with Dewolff, she hasn't considered the thought of something going wrong. Everything at the moment has gone just right.

Dr. Octavius wide awake makes herself a coffee. She normally drinks coffee when she will begin to work. In this case, she is breaking down the notes she has gotten from Gwen and Dewolff. She places her phone as a recorder,

"Peter is hiding something. He has shown himself to be open with Gwen, but he constantly vanishes. She can't seem to catch him whenever he does leave. He always has an excuse, but it's a little too convenient. Dewolff, who is a very good tracker, couldn't keep up either."

"One thing we started doing is following Peter's Aunt. We assigned Jim Johnson, something George thought of because he wants to cover the whole picture. Could May Parker be involved? Of course not, but I get it." She stretches her arms, she notices Gwen's backpack is on the kitchen floor. _Ah, Gwen, _"One thing that Jimmy has brought to our attention is that Peter always arrives late to his home. His Aunt sometimes comes home later on the day because she helps out in a local homeless shelter." _Saint Parker, I guess. _

"Although, Gwen's stories tend to be after school hangouts and, just, every day teen situations. She seems very passionate about this project, but I can tell she enjoys Peter's company. Could she be leaving out information? I don't believe so."

"So far, the Vampire attacked a clinic and left a man completely drained from his blood. A nurse caught him doing it. She then probably screamed and such, thus warning everyone. The police soon arrived at the scene, but what complicates matters is the presence of Spider-Man."

"After that Gwen is taken and dragged by what she described as, 'A Pale Man,' which fits the description of the man we dealt with more than thirty years ago. She also described some facial features and hair. The only problem is that the Vampire killer was not supposed to be alive today, let alone…young."

She contemplates on the moment ways back.

1988

She walks a dark and smoky hallway. Dust everywhere and a flickering light across the hall provides just enough for Maria Octavius to see her footing, but not enough light for a clear picture. The walls around her seem to corner her, yet she persists to continue.

She was called over by George to meet him at the southwest entrance of the abandon wreck yard. Brown and grey hues engulfed the whole wreck yard. Their plan had worked, to make the Vampire come to them, but at what cost she thought.

She sweats in the awful weather around her. The dust doesn't help, and the trash everywhere makes it almost unbearable to walk around. She entered the big warehouse at the center of the wreck only to find herself in a claustrophobic hallway. She is scared at what she might find at the end of the hall, or what might jump her along the way.

"George!" she yells, hoping for a response, but to no avail.

She holds her gun by her side, ready for anything. She walks slowly as she hears the light flickering, but also the rats perching through the walls. She finally reaches the end only to find…nothing. Only trash and rats roam the room.

Sigh.

Her eyes scan the area only finding a door with an exit sign on it. She kicks open the door. It's gloomy, the day is readying itself to rain, but there's still daylight outside.

She turns back only to see two yellow eyes staring at her. She will never forget the feeling she got when the door in front of her slammed shut. It took the wind out of her. She tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. She wanted to shoot the door open, but she hesitated. _What if it's nothing? Yellow eyes, couldn't have been, could it?_

"Maria!"

* * *

George's voice echos as she remembers her past. _Those damn yellow eyes._

"Vampires…George has this theory that the Dawn Killer or Vampire killer, as I think of him, might actually be a living breathing vampire." The thought of it being true fascinates her. "What if the Vampire is real? Could he be controlling Peter Parker? What powers do Vampires have? Have we been watching too many movies?" she laughs at her own joke.

"Going back to the clinic to question everyone while reevaluating our steps resulted in more complications. First off, most of the nurses and patients all said they didn't see Spider-Man. Some of them though clearly lied by saying they saw a literal spider underneath the onesie." She remembers the face of the person who said it. _That's some New York craziness right there. _"I have enjoyed Dewolff's company and style of work. She definitely has a future in the police force. Still, she needs to take better notes. Perhaps, George's influence? I don't know."

She takes the notes on Peter Parker.

"Who is Peter Parker? He seems to be stuck in the middle of something. He wants to make friends, but he doesn't commit. He's a flake, perhaps?" she gets up and grabs a snack from the refrigerator. "He tends to speak in what Gwen calls, 'lie detector mode,' meaning she feels he lies a lot. Perhaps a bad poker face. Maybe he's just awkward around people. He was never a friendly type." She bites the snack. "Scratch that, he was never good at making friends, but he is friendly. If that makes sense." She smirks at the idea. "Lie detector mode doesn't quite make much sense Gwen." She gives out a small laugh.

"Anyways, I believe I might have to get more involved, more hands-on with the investigation. I like to think I could be Peter's mentor, and I hope he does too." She ponders the idea of everything turning out wrong. _Everything will be alright. I know it will._

* * *

"The British Are Coming!"

Silence.

"Paul Revere, anyone?"

Silence.

Peter sits in class bored with the lecture Mr. Greenlock is doing. History was never his favorite subject, yet he knows his history. He notices Gwen at the front door window waving frantically.

"Historians have argued that Paul Revere didn't say his iconic words, rather he was more subdued."

Peter raises his hand. "May I go—"

Mr. Greenlock gives him the thumbs up.

* * *

"What's up?"

"Well…let's go out and do something."

Peter confused by the suggestion.

"But we—"

"Yes."

"Yes?—"

"Yes," she nods.

"…"

"Besides, you run off all the time, why not a class day?" she smiles at him.

"I suppose you got me there…where to Captain Gwen?"

"I met new friends that I'd like you to meet."

"Ah, I don't know. I'm not good with—"

"Nonsense!" Her words echo the hall. "Pete, you're a cool guy, and I'm sure they'll think the same. Plus, if they're not cool with you then they're not cool with me."

Peter looks at Gwen with a genuine sense of admiration.

"Ok," he says. "But—"

"No buts." She puts her finger on his mouth. "Let's go."

* * *

They walk the long hallway to reach the front of the school to meet the friends Gwen had mentioned. One was Betty Brant, a smart, ambitious student of midtown. She knew who Peter was because she saw him as a threat to her valedictorian award.

The other was Mary Jane. A beautiful redhead who so happened to be Peter's neighbor. Her beauty is striking, enough to capture the gaze of anyone. Unfortunately, Peter is no exception.

"Hi, I'm Mary Jane."

"Um, I'm," Peter at a lost for words, "I'm—"

"He's Peter Parker. Your neighbor." Gwen bluntly states.

"Oh, are you that kid who always tries not to make any noise while entering your house, but fails every time?" she asks jokingly.

Betty laughs at the image. "That sounds like a good comedy."

Peter tries to play it cool. "I…yes, I'm a noisemaker, but am I really that noisy?"

She nods.

Gwen grabs Peter's arm and yanks him towards the exit. "Let's go!"

* * *

They cross the walkway towards the entrance of a variety store. Mary Jane and Gwen go ahead while Betty and Peter walk behind them.

"So…" Betty tries to make conversation.

"Yeah..."

"How are your class grades coming along?" She asks awkwardly.

"Could be better…I will say that I'm getting behind on some of my classes. Still, I'm sure I'm way ahead of anyone on the GPA rankings," he says, looking at her with a humorous face.

"Really!?" her tone heightens.

Peter knows of Betty Brants high grades and figured he push her buttons.

"I'm kidding. I'm sure you're way ahead of me."

She chuckles. "Yeah, I got that." She brushes it off. "Still, color me impressed. Gwen always says you're super busy."

"Honestly though, It's been tough keeping up."

"I'm always there in Dr. Modell's classroom. I help out students who, well, need help."

He smirks. "Dr. Modell, he's a smart professor—"

"Yes, he is—"

"Betty! Check this shirt out!" Mary Jane calls for her.

"I'm coming," she responds. "Continue later?"

He nods.

* * *

Peter looks for Gwen, but he can't seem to find her.

"Hey, Peter. How do I look?" Mary Jane asks.

He looks at her with a perplexed expression. "Um, good. Marry you look—"

"Call me MJ."

"Um, MJ you look good. I was looking for Gwen—"

"She should be on the other side of here," she says. "I think she went to grab a snack."

"Blue or red?" she poses with the dresses she picked out.

"What—"

"Blue or red, silly," she says as she smiles holding up the dresses. "Come on before you wander off like the rest of my friends!" she says, looking around for Gwen and Betty.

"You…man that's tough." He looks at her as she poses. "I mean those colors look perfect on…" _my suit. Blue and red, that's perfect. _

"Well, he's in dreamland, and I pick the blue one." Betty gives her input.

MJ smirks at the comment.

"I choose the red one," Peter smiles.

* * *

Gwen stands in like waiting to pay for some snacks she grabbed.

"You need some help their blondie?" Peter asks.

"I don't know…can you handle this amount of beef jerky?" she asks, pointing the beef jerky at Peter's face.

They share a brief laugh.

"How are you liking Mary Jane and Betty?"

"Well, Betty is…fine. She's cool. MJ is—"

"MJ?" Gwen moves slightly back as she smiles. "She already told you to call her MJ. That's saying something."

"What do you mean?"

"First off, I had to gain her trust to call her MJ," she says as she raises her eyebrows. "So, she trusts you. I don't know about you, but that sounds like you got an in on the in-crowd." She bumps Peter with her forearm.

"I guess it's that Parker luck."

"Oh, look at you," she says humorously. "Getting lucky all of a sudden."

"Honestly though, I feel like the odd man out."

"But she told you to call her MJ." She smiles. "You're good."

"Yeah, but I'm the only guy here. Plus, you three seem to get along perfectly without me. I don't think I add anything to the group—"

"Maybe, maybe not. I just wanted you to hang out with us and maybe make friends."

"I know—"

"Pete, you're judging yourself too harshly. I mean the sun comes up every morning and it goes down at night. It's just the way it goes. Connections are going to happen no matter what, just look at us."

"You're different—"

"Ah, don't—"

"You are. You didn't judge me or bully me or anything," he says with a smile on his face. "So yes, you are different."

"I am kinda different." She smiles. "Well, Betty and MJ didn't judge you or do anything mean to you…yet." She smirks.

He chuckles.

"I know I should try to 'connect' as you put it." His face turns serious. "It's just hard, you know."

"I do."

She greets the cashier as she gets ready to pay. Peter watches her lost in thought. _How is it possible someone like you exists? I can't believe I met someone so carefree as you Gwen, but I love that I did. _

Gwen, Peter, MJ, and Betty stroll the streets back to Midtown High.

* * *

Gwen and Dewolff arrive to a working Dr. Octavius. She has stacks of papers on the kitchen table, plus some on the floor.

"What's with all the work?" Gwen asks

"It's…it's a new case, plus some of Dawn's case," she responded.

"Gwen I think you should go to your room," Dewolff tells her.

"Why? I think I can—"

"No, you're helping a lot as is. Leave the paperwork to us." Dewolff tells her.

"Go on now Gwen," Dr. Octavius says.

So she does.

"I still don't know how the Diner people didn't notice a dead body being dragged into their place. What gives?" Dewolff asks.

"That is a mystery…we need to get at them, somehow."

"We are spreading ourselves thin here, Dr. Octavius…we need to tell Capt—"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"We need to find a smoking gun if you will. I don't want George to worry more. I want to bring him a case on Parker, whether he's involved or not."

Dewolff nods, "Ok."

"As for these new murders, well, we're going to have to work harder, smarter, and maybe a bit dirtier." She pauses, "I have a feeling these new cases are only the beginning of something even crazier."

Dr. Octavius and Dewolff sit down and begin going through all the paperwork. Gwen comes down from her room and starts the coffee maker.

Both Dr. Octavius and Dewolff stare in puzzlement.

"It's the least I can do," Gwen says.

"Thank you," Dr. Octavius tells her.

The night ends as both women try to forge a path to understanding the puzzles that sit in front of them.


	13. Chapter 13: A New Card in the Game

Ch 13: A New Card in the Game

It's 3 A.M. The night sky covers New York like a blanket does a child. The coffee Brewer brews a good old-fashioned cup of coffee. His diner, The Night Life, was open 24/7. He always made it work, but it was the coffee that brought repeat customers.

"Hey, Johnny, how the hell are you!?" an old man asks another.

Always new faces, the coffee Brewer thinks.

Every once in a while, a stranger sticks out like a sore thumb. This morning one such fellow stands out. He has slick hair, like a James Dean. The man looks at the Brewer as he flicks his slick hair. His face matched his style, a plain t-shirt with some grease, but with a sense of cool. His jacket was on the seat next to him. Rugged, but not enough to lose his good looks. The Brewer felt a sense of mystery towards the man. He was worried.

The diner was a friend to those lost souls at night, but everyone seemed to know that in the diner trouble was not tolerated. Still, danger makes its way to the diner. The nightlife welcomes everyone, and the Brewer doesn't know how he manages it, but he does.

"How about a cup of that Night Life?" he asks. His voice deep and foreign to the streets of New York. He had a certain New Orleans accent, a southern twang.

"Sure thing. How do you—"

"Black. Black as the nightlife," he stares blanketly towards the Brewer.

"Uh, yeah, coming up."

The Door Rings.

A man and a woman enter the diner. They seem to fall on their seats. The man can't seem to stop touching the woman. She giggles and giggles. Their booth is set up at the far end of the diner.

"Here you go—"

"Hey! I want a good cheese slice!" says the touchy man.

"Drink!" The tipsy lady yells.

"I will attend you right now," The Brewer tells them. He turns to The Stranger, "Here's your black coffee, sir."

As time passes all types of customers come and go. Except for the mysterious stranger.

4 A.M.

The feeling in the air is blue. The night sky matches the feeling.

The blue lights reflect on the windows of the Night Life. The red seats glimmer more at night as if the diner was made for it. Something about today gave the Brewer much to contemplate.

_Who is this stranger sitting patiently? Should I talk to him? Nah, I may be interrupting something…_

The Door Rings.

A woman enters looking disheveled. Wearing shades, more than likely to hide her bloodshot eyes. Her red shirt makes her pale skin brighten up. Her lips match the shirt only illuminating her pale face. She eyes the Brewer, but soon enough, her attention turns to The Stranger. _He sits there all by his lonesome_. She goes up to him when she eyes a necklace he is wearing.

"It's you—"

"How can I help you miss?" the Brewer asks.

She looks at The Stranger. The man doesn't flinch as he drinks his coffee.

"I'll have a water and a beer." She goes and sits two seats from The Stranger.

"Here you go mam." The Brewer places the items on the counter. "Say, have you come in here before? I feel like—"

"No," she says. "If you knew me you would surly remember every detail."

The Brewer smiles, "I'm sure I would."

"Speaking of knowing people, Mister," she calls The Stranger. "Have we met?"

He slightly looks at her and shakes his head.

"I swear, I feel like I've seen that necklace before." She drinks from her beer.

The Brewer comments on the necklace. "That sure is a fine necklace Mister. I also feel—"

"I doubt that," she says.

The Stranger keeps his cool. His eyes tell a story full of regret and sorrow, but his composure spell out a man who can handle it. This tends to strike fear on individuals. It acts like a warning for those who know of such eyes.

"I think it's best for me if I take my leave." She stares at The Stranger. "Here's a tip, Mister."

"Take care lady," the Brewer picks up the leftovers.

The Door Rings.

"That was something, I know I knew her from somewhere, and then she knew you. What are the odds."

The Stranger drinks from his coffee. "A refill would be nice."

"Of course! Now like I was saying—"

The Stranger completely ignores the Brewer.

5 A.M.

The Brewer cleans some glasses as he stares at The Stranger. The man sits quietly drinking his second cup of black coffee. His calmness is unnerving, he never flinches, even with loud and abrupt customers.

The Door Rings.

When suddenly a young woman enters ready for work. The Brewer surprised by her arrival.

"Dad?" Surprised by his reaction. "It's my shift, remember?"

"Of course." He calms down. "It's been the usual Sarah." He gives her a face to signal the strangeness of the man at the diner.

As she gets ready, she politely asks the man drinking his coffee, "Hi sir, would you like a refill? We also have a delicious apple pie?" she smiles.

"I'll gladly take a slice."

The Brewer takes the chance to talk to the man, "I noticed you—"

"I know."

"Now, you can't blame me—"

"No, I cannot," he says as he sips some of his coffee.

"Here you go, mister." Sarah gives him a slice of apple pie. "Is my father bothering you?"

"No, not at all." His chocolate eyes look at her. "Thank you."

The Brewer is quick to say, "I'm just curious to know your business. You've been seated there for quite some time."

He stands up. He is lean, broad-shouldered. "I'm here waiting for a person. Or some persons."

"I mean, couldn't you have just waited elsewhere?" He asks bluntly.

"Dad!" she says, embarrassed by his rude tone.

The Stranger smirks at the Brewer. "This person only comes out at night."

"They only come out at night?" The Brewer asks, confused.

The Door Rings.

Other people enter the diner.

"Right this way," Sarah tells them.

The Brewer looks at The Stranger, "What kind of people?"

The Stranger looks at him with serious eyes.

"I don't want no trouble mister."

"Let's just hope the nightlife goes by quick." The Stranger says, he gives the Brewer a small grin.

The Brewer feels his breath leaving him. He looks at his daughter serving the customers. Her youth is fleeting, somehow. He turns to The Stranger, "You need to go—"

"That isn't happening." He grabs his jacket and gets closer to the Brewer. "I'm the guy you want in these situations." His voice sounding like a strained musical note dipped in bourbon.

The Stranger turns to Sarah, "What time is it?"

"A quarter past five."

"30 or so minutes till sunset." He sits and takes a bite of that apple pie. "You're almost out of the clear—"

The Door Rings.

A man with a tailored suit enters. Slim and tall. He sits near the jukebox at the corner of the diner. He puts some quarters in the jukebox.

_(When that ev'nin' sun goes down__  
__Yeah, you'll find me hangin' around__  
__Because the night life__  
__It ain't no good life but it's my life)_

The Brewer looks at The Stranger in acknowledgment. He goes and stops Sarah from helping the tailored man.

The Stranger gets up and tells her, "Go with your father at the back. Take those people with you, ok."

"What?" she asks confused. "What did my dad—"

"Listen to me," he says with conviction. "Go."

"Come on honey, let's just go," The Brewer says.

Her stomach drops. She knows something is wrong. She trusts this Stranger, but she doesn't know why. She goes and tells the other costumers to come with her. They do.

_(Many people just like me_

_Dreamin' of old used-to-be's_

_Oh, the night life, it ain't no good life_

_Ah, but it's my life)_

The Tailored Man stays seated. He looks at the people slowly moving to the kitchen area. His face gives a smug look. He laughs at the idea of these people trying to survive his instincts.

"You must be the fool who's been tailing my every move." He grabs a cigarette from his breast pocket. "I wonder, what the hell do you want?"

The Door Rings—

"Get the hell out of here—"

The Tailored Man jumps towards the older customer when The Stranger pushes the older man over the counter of the diner.

_(Listen to the blues that they're playin'_

_Listen what the blues are sayin' )_

"What the—" the old man gets carried towards the back by the Brewer and Sarah.

"I see, you're special." The Tailored Man says. He slowly gets up eyeing The Stranger. "Time to get serious, I suppose."

The Stranger blocks the Tailored Man's quick strikes. He reaches for one of the stool chairs, but the Tailored Man pushes them off. He then quickly maneuvers himself to the back of The Stranger and pushes him down.

He is quick to turn around, but the Tailored Man is gone. He looks for him, but nothing is there.

_(Oh, the night life ain't no good life_

_Oh, but it's my life_

_Yeah, it's my life)_

Silence engulfs the room as one by one the lights begin to spark out. The Diner is dark, only lighted by the blue sky.

He looks towards the sound coming from the back, where the kitchen is at. He sees the Brewer slowly crawl. The Brewer trying not to make a sound points up towards the corner near the restroom.

The Stranger reaches for something in his inner jacket pocket. He slowly turns to the area the Brewer pointed to, when the Tailored Man flies towards him. The whole room is lighted up by a giant red flash. The windows crack, and the heat is felt around the area.

Silence. Dusty. Heat.

Slowly, the Brewer comes out. "What the hell happened?"

The Stranger stands alone. The body of a creature lays on the floor with no chest. He turns to the Brewer.

"I got 'em."

He is blood soaked. He reaches down and grabs the cigarette the Tailored Man had.

The Brewer is shocked at the sight of this creature on the floor, tall, muscular, and with fangs at the edge of its fingertips. Fangs for teeth.

He then looks at the state of the diner. "My place is wrecked."

The people at the back begin to come out. "What happened?"

The Brewer begins to talk them down and slowly getting them to leave. The Stranger sits resting in a booth. As all the customers leave, the Brewer goes to The Stranger, "What now?"

"I help you," he says.

"Help me? How?" he says with a dismissive tone. "I don't see you with a million bucks' stranger."

"You know I'm quite handy. I'm a man of my word, and…I need a place to stay." He says with a calming tone.

"Mister, I don't know you." he says, "but you killed that thing. I don't know what the hell that is."

"Could be one of those mutants we see all the time on TV." Sarah interjects herself.

"No." The Stranger says.

"How do you know that thing ain't one?" The Brewer asks.

"Because I'm a mutant."

Both the Brewer and Sarah stand back.

"Why shouldn't we be scared of you?" He asks The Stranger.

"Because I just saved you. And this thing is one of many out there. It's a vampire."

"What!?" The Brewer is shocked.

"Like Dracula?" Sarah asks, confused.

"Yes, only these guys have been going crazy lately, they killed friends of mine. Ever since then I've been going after the sons of bitches." He brushes the blood off his jacket. "Plus, you've been giving me good service all morning. Most diners would've told me to get out once past the two hour mark. I figured you like me."

Both the Brewer and Sarah look around.

"How are you going to help us rebuild our diner," Sarah asks, "For all we know that thing came here because you did."

"Like I said, this vampire was one of many who killed friends of mine. I was following it. So, I followed it's tracking; I knew he was coming here." He gets up from the booth. "For some reason it chose this diner. Maybe he liked the coffee, or there is something here attracting them. As for how I would help rebuild, well, I know people who could rebuild your diner. They owe me and they'll do it for free."

The Brewer comes closer to The Stranger. "I don't want any trouble."

"I'm not trouble." He throws the cigarette and puts his hand out for a handshake. "As I said, I'm the guy who takes care of trouble."

"A man kills a monster…" The Brewer says. "What's your name?"

"So, we have a deal?"

"What deal is that, exactly?" she asks him.

"I'll help you rebuild the mess this guy did, plus protect you guys from outlaws, and maybe more monsters…you guys just provide me a roof. How about it, fair deal?"

Sarah looks at her dad. "We definitely need to rebuild."

The Brewer shakes the man's hand in agreement, "you can call me Harvey. Harvey Lee."

"My name is Remy LeBeau, but my friends call me Gambit."

The sun slowly rises….

A new day is upon them.


End file.
